The Stillness of the Sky: A Flipped Fairy Tale (Flipped Fairy Tales)

by Starla Huchton

  “I understand you’ve agreed to play for us, today,” he said.

  “I have, Sire.”

  “Then, if you would,” he motioned in a great, sweeping gesture, “I’m anxious to experience the Bard I’ve heard so much about.”

  Something in his voice gave me pause, and a glance at Will did nothing to ease my concern. I’d seen the look he wore before, when he thought I fancied Gustave, yet the fire in his eyes was not directed at me, but his father. Rather than worry over it, I bowed once more. “By your leave, Your Majesty.”

  When there was no argument against it, I straightened and brought my lute before me and closed my eyes. I’d spent days preparing for that moment, ceaselessly collecting notes and phrases for compilation in a single performance.

  The first chord was all I heard before I was swept away in song. My body shifted and swayed with the words I sang, spinning a tale of tragedy and triumph, of a journey to discover the truth. It was a search for history, of obstacles moved with love and grace instead of brutish force. I sang of the world’s immensity and endless knowledge. I sang of boundless curiosity. I sang of the burden of wisdom and the danger of ignorance. But more than all of these, I sang of a need to find a place within the great story being woven every day.

  Without pause, I jumped from prelude to purpose. I stilled myself, sinking to the floor. Where one song ended, the next began, and I focused my thoughts on a single face.

  My ballad pulled at my memories, of my immeasurable love for my mother. My heart propelled every note, every phrase, every line, until it became a plea. It twisted and spun away from me, the spell within the melody drifting out over the audience, searching, seeking. I felt it moving and winding around every face in the crowd, feeling for the familiar warmth I longed to know once more. Was she here? Would she see me? Could I touch her heart with mine enough to make herself known?

  Not this moment, my precious one…

  The sudden intrusion on my thoughts nearly stopped my playing. Instead, I channeled the joy at knowing, without any doubt, that my mother heard my call into a new phase of the performance. In jubilation, I leapt to my feet, my expression of wonder and elation fueling my fingers as they plucked and strummed. My song turned to words of wholeness, to feelings of finding home, to at last knowing where I belonged and who held me in their heart. The tail of my peplum whipped through the air as I danced in celebration of my journey meeting with the greatest success I could imagine. I had not seen her, but my mother was there. She knew me. She loved me. I’d again know the safety of her embrace.

  With a final bow, I freed my captive audience. As deafening applause exploded around me, I concentrated on my breathing and cleared my mind of the haze of performance. Though I stood, my knees shook dangerously, threatening to give out on me. A hand at my elbow steadied me, and I looked up into the face of a woman that could only be the Bard Kela. Her pale eyes held a tangible, feral quality, as though an animal were chained behind them. A single black braid flowed from the top of her clean-shaven scalp, over the shoulder of her brilliant red tunic. Had I any words left, I would’ve fired a million questions at her, but her ruddy face rendered me speechless.

  “We’ve much to discuss,” she said so softly, I nearly didn’t hear her. “After dinner, once you’ve rested. We’ve many questions for you, little sister.”

  A touch at my other arm distracted me, and when I looked again, she was gone.

  “You should know,” Willem whispered to me as he helped me back towards the dais, “it’s impossible to see anything but you when you’re performing.”

  “Is that your way of saying I shouldn’t have bothered with the compass?” I said, still catching my breath.

  He presented me before the king once more and supported my weight as I bowed. “I’ll not rest until I’ve made amends for my incompetence,” he murmured, face turned to the floor.

  I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  “Marvelous!” King Ivor exclaimed, prompting us to our feet. “You are every bit the wonder I’ve heard tell. And so young, at that. Dear lady, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing your astounding gifts with us today.”

  I dipped my head. “It was my pleasure, Your Majesty.”

  “Willem, see that she’s cared for and rests comfortably. Dinner this evening will be in the banquet hall, and I hope all of the Bards in attendance will join us.”

  Will bowed again. “I’ll see to it personally.”

  The crowd parted as he led me out of the throne room. I held my breath until the moment the doors closed behind us, though I continued pretending that I had the strength to walk the length of the castle to my room. It wasn’t until we reached the grand staircase that I gave it up. Or rather, my legs decided for me.

  “Whoa there,” Willem said as I crumpled against his arm. “Sit for a moment.”

  He eased me down onto the steps and I sighed. “I’m sorry. Any normal performance and I’d be fine. It’s these concentrated efforts with specific goals that sap my strength.”

  “Well, I think you’re doing a good sight better than earlier this week, though I suppose you weren’t defending your life today, so perhaps the level of difficulty was lower.”

  I chuckled. “You wouldn’t be so quick to say so if you were me. This was at least as important as that other, maybe more so.”

  He tipped my chin up to look at him, and gave me a quick wink. “I should note that I’m glad to see you’ve honored my request about not coming near to death.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I am but a humble servant, Your Highness.”

  He barked a laugh and hefted me to my feet. “Well, your wit seems to have recovered. Shall we continue?”

  Taking a deep breath, I set my arm in his once more. “As my lord wishes.”

  Grinning, he started up with me in tow. “I do hope you make it, good lady Bard. I’d hate to cause a scene by carrying you through the halls.”

  “Mmm,” I hummed. “I’m sure you’d be positively miserable.”

  “Are you calling your prince a liar?”

  I giggled and shook my head. “I’d not dream of it, Sire.”

  Chapter 17

  Several hours later, I was woken and readied for dinner, but the meal itself wasn’t overly remarkable. I was seated beside King Ivor, uncomfortably ignoring both his constant gaze and Will’s twitching jaw muscles. Most of the conversation revolved around the Bards sharing reflections on their travels and the king’s questions about my life before discovering my talents. I kept my answers vague and that seemed to be enough for him. He wasn’t inhospitable, but I got the impression he wasn’t overly invested in anyone. When he asked me where I intended to go next, I tried my hand at subtly suggesting the war made travel difficult and that I was considering leaving the kingdom for one less scarred by violence. The darkness that descended over King Ivor’s countenance kept me clear of any further comment on the matter, however. Not long after, I begged his leave, claiming exhaustion from my considerable efforts that afternoon.

  Back in my room, all that was left to me was to wait. Darkness had fallen during dinner, but I didn’t want to risk being caught meeting with someone who was clearly trying to remain hidden. I passed an hour with my lute on the balcony, playing quiet lullabies to the stars above when a knock on my door disturbed my reverie, and I was surprised to find Sudam and Willem standing outside.

  When they entered, I watched on with curiosity as they gathered every chair in the room and the adjoining bath around the fireplace, a total of six seats.

  “Are we expecting company?” I asked.

  “We didn’t want to attract too much attention, so the others are coming as they’re able,” Willem said as he guided me to an arm chair.

  “The others?”

  Sudam lowered himself into the seat across from me. “The other Bards,” he said. “Kela said she spoke with you about it.”

  “Oh,” I flushed. “Yes, she mentioned it. Why the need for secrecy, tho
ugh? Is it so unusual for Bards to gather and share information?”

  Will sat beside me. “With each other? Yes. Quite rare. I told you, Bards are scattered, and you’d be hard pressed to find more than one in a single kingdom, nevermind five at once.” He chuckled. “In fact, such a large gathering is completely unheard of. It’s a rather historical occasion, and I’m quite honored to be witness to it.”

  “Desperate times, Your Highness,” Sudam said, forcing a smile.

  “Desperate?” I said, surprised. “Are things so bad as that?”

  Another knock interrupted the conversation, and we were joined by Kela, followed by Jī-Shae, and Marcel soon after. Kela was every bit as fascinating to me as before, but Jī-Shae was as exotic as she. The emerald green silk wrapped around his body flowed like liquid, the gold embroidery throughout the fabric of marvelous birds and flowers appearing to dance as he moved. Marcel’s smile was astonishingly warm considering he was a stranger to me. His straight hair was slightly lighter than my own, but he was barely taller than I. Something in his movements struck me as familiar, though I couldn’t place his face, half-hidden by the chin-length hair draping across the front. When everyone was seated, I shifted anxiously in my chair. If such a gathering was so rare, it wouldn’t be right for me to speak first.

  “Now that we’ve seen you, asita,” Sudam began, “you must know that we have many questions for you.”

  My eyes widened. “This is about me? How am I so important?”

  “That is what we’d like to know,” Kela said. “Even among Bards, you are unique. I’ve met nearly every living Bard in my travels, but haven’t seen your equal before. As a seeker of stories, I’m compelled to know you and how it is you’ve been hidden from our community so long.”

  I sighed and lowered my gaze to the floor. “There’s only one who could speak to that, but I’ve yet to find her.”

  Jī-Shae rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And who is that? Perhaps we could help you locate her. We’ve all traveled extensively and may know her.”

  I absently pulled the compass from my pocket and turned it between my fingers. “It isn’t so much that I can’t find her, as that I haven’t met her yet. You see, she’s my mother, a Bard from what I’ve pieced together, and I’ve been searching for her for weeks now. She left when I was a child, and I’ve not seen her since.”

  “Your mother left you?” Marcel said. His voice tickled in my ears, and I stared at him, studying what I could see of his face.

  “With good reason,” I replied. “Though now that I know what she is her reasons were better than I ever understood before. My father was mean and kept himself up to his ears in ale when he had the money to. Back then, I assumed that was why she left even when I insisted on staying. Now, I know she couldn’t have stayed had she wanted to.”

  “You still wish to find her, even knowing what she hid from you and who she left you with?” Marcel’s voice cracked ever so slightly.

  I gulped, new suspicions toying with me, daring me to lift my hopes. “She had her reasons for leaving.” Despite my resolve, tears were already welling in my eyes. “I had mine for staying.”

  He closed his eyes. “So kind after all you’ve endured… The magic you must possess…”

  Shaky, I got to my feet, taking a hesitant step toward him. “And what would you know about what I’ve endured?”

  A touch on my wrist broke my concentration, and I looked at Willem. When he turned my palm out, I gasped. The gemstone compass had flared to life, its glow brighter than I’d ever seen, even in the dead of night. I stared at it a long moment. Could it be?

  I took another step towards Marcel, the light brightening further. Two more steps and I fell to my knees before the person I’d longed to see for seven lonely years.

  Unable to find words, I looked up into the Bard’s face, searching every feature as the image of the person before me lined up with the woman I remembered.

  She looked at me with tears in her eyes, her hands shaking as she reached out to touch my face. “Make a wish, Jack.”

  Sobbing, I collapsed on her lap, the torrent of emotion washing away thoughts of anyone or anything else but her. She held me there, her tears dampening my hair as she whispered choked apologies into my ear. What little anger I’d ever felt towards her vanished in those moments, replaced by relief and gratitude that life had seen fit to reunite us after so much time apart.

  The others let us have our time, not disturbing us with so much as quiet conversation. Eventually I recovered, though I couldn’t bring myself to pull away until she lifted my face to see me again.

  “You’re more beautiful and kind than I ever dreamed you’d be, Jack. And how clever are you? You found every clue I left you, pieced together every bit of information. There’s not a mother alive that could be more proud of her child.”

  Smiling, I wiped away my tears to clear my vision. “I’m not so clever that I didn’t need some help.”

  My mother looked behind me to where Willem sat. “Thank you for all you’ve done for her. I’m glad my songs found the right ears.”

  I turned and glanced between him and my mother. “Your songs?”

  She smiled softly at me then returned her attention to him. “My first visit here, do you remember it?”

  Will’s face went slack and he nodded. “But you weren’t singing. In the five years you’ve come and gone, you only played and told jokes.”

  My mother sighed. “My gift is more subtle, I’m afraid. I apologize for making you a pawn in this, but a mother would do nearly anything to keep her child safe. I hum as I play, so you don’t consciously hear it, but my thoughts and feelings find their way into the right minds. I was searching for someone at court with true goodness in their heart. Only such a person would’ve held on to those suggestions for so long.” Her gaze drifted back to me with a knowing grin. “Though I’d not imagined he’d dedicate himself to such an extent.”

  My face burned with the heat of my blush. “How…?”

  Sudam chuckled. “Bards are very observant by nature, often picking up on feelings others miss. Even had I not seen him hovering over you when your fever took, it was very clear to us when he presented you at court.”

  “My father has a habit of inappropriate behavior towards young women,” Willem growled. “I despise the way he looks at any of them.”

  “I’d second the concern,” Kela added. “King Ivor’s intentions for our little sister are disconcerting.”

  Jī-Shae scowled. “Men granted power are often too weak to bear the privilege.”

  My mother turned my face to her once more, her smile a façade on her worries. “But we have many other things to talk about, I think.”

  I nodded. “We do.”

  “My story is a long one, but I’d rather hear yours first,” she said. “I know you’d not have left him without any other choice, so it worries me that you did. While I’m happier than I can say to have you with me again, I can’t help the guilt that—”

  Holding up a hand, I stopped her. “Don’t. Don’t feel guilty. You did what you had to far longer than most Bards could, from my understanding. And you’re right. There wasn’t a choice the day I left.”

  With that, I began recounting the days since I was forced to take the cows to Breen. I spoke of my wish, discovering my father’s intentions for me, and my decision to let him go. I explained my journey from home, to Mira, to Prudence, and the wolves. I took them with me on my climb up the beanstalk, past the clouds and into a castle and a cage. I carried them along through my discoveries and disbelief and escape. I told them of the Alabaster Heart, and Ro, and Crilla, and the prince who wouldn’t let me alone. I trembled when I recalled the showdown with the Piper and entrusting Willem with all I knew. Finally, my tale came to a close, with my dearest hope sitting before me at last.

  “And that is what I know,” I said, releasing a long breath. “I suppose the end of my story lies with you.”

  Her cheeks wet with tears, she s
lid to the floor and gathered me in her arms. “My precious darling,” she said. “What I have to tell you will not be kind or fair, but I shall spend the rest of my days doing all I can to ease the burden of what you’re about to hear.”

  I squeezed her tightly, already preparing myself for whatever tragedy her words would bring me. “Better to know than to guess at far worse. I need you to tell me all of it.”

  An unseasonably chilly breeze drifted in from the half-open balcony doors. Sudam, eerily silent, built a fire in the hearth, and we all settled in to listen.

  “I grew up in Sericea,” my mother said, smoothing my hair behind my ear, “not Litania. My mother was a daughter of lower nobility, but far from the wealth of the Benforno court. My father I never knew, and my arrival was quite the scandal, being illegitimate. Still, my family loved me well enough, and there was little reason I should’ve been as restless as I was. I ate up stories then, with an absolutely unending passion. When I’d finished with the family’s library, I explored the collections of friends, neighbors, and peddlers passing through, anyone who had a tale to tell, really. Learning that my father was a Bard, when I was around your age, I think, it explained a great deal about my urges. It didn’t take long for me to reach my own conclusions about the path my life would take, so I left.”

  “Just like that?” I asked, a little stunned she’d make that decision so quickly.

  She nodded. “Mmm. It was easy for me then. They thought to marry me off, but my mother knew how disastrous that would be, and she warned me. I set off in the world, on the hunt for stories with more determination than ever. I thought I might even find my father, but it was more out of curiosity for what I was than any sentimentality.”

  “Did you ever find him?”