Whole in the Clouds

by Kristine Kibbee

  Cora spun around on her heels and was faced with a dark, striking boy just a little older than she was. “Miss Cora,” he said with a bow, and stretched his hand out to take hers. She accepted without reservation. When their palms touched, Cora felt immediate electricity running through her and she looked to the familiar stranger with an expectant gaze, wondering if he felt it too.

  “I could never have imagined such beauty accompanied your lovely voice,” the boy remarked, notching his fingers through hers.

  Cora was perplexed by his comment but, amid her swooning, quickly dismissed it. “And whom, may I ask, do I have the pleasure of thanking for such a compliment?” she playfully returned.

  “I was hoping you would know me,” he said, his voice laced with a trace of sadness.

  They took the floor, both in silence, and then all at once they were dancing—gliding and spinning around the ballroom. The pair seemed to float into the stardust, beckoned skyward by something Cora had never experienced before. She felt as if they’d begun to glow with a light that was radiating between their bodies—she could almost feel the warmth.

  Cora broke her gaze from her partner’s eyes for the first time since she’d seen him. She looked out to the gathering crowd and noticed many expressions of awe. It seemed that she had not simply imagined the light between the pair and that everyone else could see it as well. Many were pointing and gawking. Cora heard one voice erupt with a gasp, “They’re marked!”

  A young redheaded girl of perhaps six or seven tugged at the gown of a woman beside her and exclaimed, “Look, mommy, a match!”

  The night suddenly seemed like a dream from which Cora now wished to awaken. She began scanning the room for a means of escape yet with a squeeze from the hand of her dark prince, all at once things were right again. He leaned in close to her and she could feel his warm breath send tingles from her neck straight down her spine.

  “It’s me,” he whispered in her ear. “Patrick. I’d only just discovered it myself by sneaking a look at my father’s journal. We’re marked for each other, Cora—you and me.”

  Cora couldn’t find the words to speak, but it didn’t matter as Thomas’s voice shook the room. “NO!”

  Thomas rushed toward them with a dangerous heat in his eyes. For the first time ever Cora was frightened of her father, and Patrick seemed to sense this. He drew her close in response, and it made her feel extremely safe.

  “A Treinbaulm in my house?” Thomas exploded.

  “Please, King Finnegan, if I could only explain,” Patrick pleaded.

  “I have no desire to hear the lies that would drip from your lips, Treinbaulm!” Thomas seethed, simultaneously reaching out for Cora’s arm.

  “Please, sir, I am not my father’s son.”

  “How dare you do this after ambushing my castle only days ago!” Thomas’s jaw was clenched, his gaze unyielding.

  Patrick was stuttering in his reply. “No, no King Finnegan, it was a plot of my father’s gone wrong. I wish no harm to anyone. I only want to find my mother,” he explained. His eyes rimmed with tears.

  “Leave,” Thomas replied. “Now.” The king was livid. He motioned to Celius, who stood close by, looking alert and ready for action. “Remove him, Sir Barnsworth,” Thomas commanded, all the while tightening his grip on Cora’s arm. She felt like a rag doll being pulled between Patrick and her father.

  “Please father, he’s telling the truth,” Cora interjected. Thomas looked at her with shock and surprise. His face began to contort into an expression of disappointment. He dropped Cora’s arm as if it repulsed him.

  “And how would you know?” Thomas spat, his hurt mutating into rage.

  “I…I don’t know how I know. I just know.”

  The king had an unwavering glare bearing some dangerous concoction of anger and sadness. “Well, I’ll tell you what I know. I know the Treinbaulms are a despicable lot. I know this rubbish standing in front of me is one of them. Lastly, I know that he entered my castle not days ago, obviously bent on a plot to destroy us. Cora, you must have no love in your heart for me if you choose to protect someone who was sent to kill me.”

  Cora found herself even more confused than before. She backed away from Patrick, shaking her intertwined fingers from his, staring back at him in horror.

  “Please, Cora, no.” Patrick nearly sobbed. “You don’t understand! Please, just let me explain.”

  “We don’t need to hear any more of your lies, Treinbaulm!” Thomas thundered, reaching out to Cora, who was slowly making her way back to him.

  Thomas nodded toward Patrick. “Celius!” he called. Eager to serve the king, Celius and two other men were soon forcing Patrick from the ballroom. Patrick fought each and every step, continuing to call out to her. “We’re marked, Cora!” he shouted. “We’re meant to be together! Please, listen to your heart. You know I’d never hurt you or your family!”

  “Silence, Treinbaulm!” Thomas’s voice boomed, reverberating off the walls and echoing in every direction. Only the thud of the enormous ballroom doors closing behind the group of men carrying Patrick away set the room at ease.

  The guests began to disperse, exiting in small whispering packs as they glanced at Cora and Thomas. Thomas and Serene seemed oblivious to the behavior, apologizing for the upset, wishing everyone a pleasant trip home.

  By the time the last guest left, the confrontation’s energy had dissipated from the ballroom, leaving Cora with an unsettling mix of emotions. She could tell from the way that both of her parents were avoiding her eyes that neither wanted to talk about the incident, and so she followed them up the corridor in silence. Even if she’d been able to muster the courage to discuss what had happened, she wasn’t sure where to start or what to say. As they arrived in the entryway to the Finnegan’s bedchambers, Thomas continued on to his own room and left Cora and Serene in the foyer. He still seemed angry with his daughter, not even turning to bid her a good night.

  Serene had a tender, motherly look about her as she and Cora turned from the image of Thomas walking away in silence. “Don’t worry, my love, he’s just not sure what he’s feeling right now,” she assured.

  Serene’s words were the first either parent had spoken to Cora in over an hour. Cora couldn’t hold back anymore. “Mom, please, I have so many questions. Won’t you tell me what’s going on? I’m kind of going crazy.”

  “Your father’s asked that I not talk to you about these things,” Serene replied in a soothing tone. She sounded as though she’d rehearsed this rebuttal many times before.

  “Mom,” Cora implored, “he’s my match, isn’t he?”

  Serene’s guise of control was fading. Cora could see tears pooling in the corners of her mother’s eyes. Finally, Serene whispered a faint yet audible yes.

  They spent the remainder of the night wrapped up in a downy quilt and animated conversation. Serene began by explaining to Cora that Patrick was indeed her match; that in actuality, it was rare to find soul mates marked to spend the rest of their lives together. Cora kept her previous investigations to herself and listened with a forced look of surprise as her mother told her the Clouden legend of “The Match,” which she’d read about in the library.

  Serene remarked that though she’d never met a matched pair before, seeing Cora and Patrick’s first meeting was everything she could’ve imagined it to be. Both of the women cooed dreamily about the ballroom encounter and agreed that Cora had experienced magic beyond anything Serene had seen before. Cora wondered aloud why her parents would wish to hide such an experience from her, which led to Serene explaining the hideous past between the Finnegan and Treinbaulm families, and the resulting war.

  “They used to live here in the castle with us. Ages ago, the Treinbaulms served the Finnegans as Clouden’s Royal Guard—in fact, Patrick’s grandfather, Michael, served alongside your own grandfather, Arthur, as his second in command. He was to your grandfather what Celius is to Thomas,” Serene explained. “But Michael was an evil, selfish m
an bent on taking the kingdom for his own. Your grandfather refused to see this and despite the advice of many of his friends and family, kept Michael by his side and honored him above all others. And just as your grandfather honored his friendship with Michael, he passed on that adoration of the Treinbaulms to your father.”

  “Whoa, whoa! Wait a sec. Dad? Liked the Treinbaulms?” Cora couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “Well, yes. There was a time when your father held them in very high regard. In his early years he was friends with Michael’s son, Barnibus,” Serene paused, cringing at his name, before moving on. “When he came of age, your father even named Barnibus his second man.”

  A spark flashed behind Cora’s eyes. “The picture, the name under Celius’s—it was Barnibus,” she announced with revelation.

  “What? What picture?”

  “Oh, never mind,” Cora blushed, waving her comment away to cover her mistake. “Please, please, continue,” she insisted.

  “Hmmm, okay.” Serene was obviously enjoying this too. Words were spilling from her like water, frantic for release after it had been too long dammed. “On any account, Barnibus was just like his father. He was always up to something and shared Michael’s fantastical ideas of taking over the kingdom. You see, the Treinbaulms have always been a hideous bunch to look at.”

  “All of that evil and rage seething inside of them shined through to the surface for everyone to see and they were markedly different from the rest of us. They wanted desperately to fuse our world with The Backworlds in hopes that their hideous hearts would be hidden in the way that people on earth so often are. They were confident that once in The Backworlds, they would become beautiful. Barnibus in particular thirsted for the marriage of the worlds as he had fallen in love with a Cloudenian woman and was convinced that if she were to see him as a handsome and powerful leader in The Backworlds, she would finally grow to love him.”

  Cora sat cross-legged with her chin resting in her cupped hands. Her look of expectation urged Serene on.

  “Well, after years of planning, Michael decided that Barnibus was finally old and strong enough to assist him with overtaking the castle. They made a midnight raid, which ended in a fierce battle between Michael and Arthur. The two men were equally matched and knew each other’s skills and weaknesses better than they knew their own. They fought for hours, covered in sweat and blood, matching their rival at every mark. But in the end, it was Arthur who triumphed and Michael who was killed. Barnibus was exiled after the battle, though it didn’t take a king’s command to get him out of the castle.”

  Cora was filled with silent awe. She cracked her lips to speak but tightly sealed them again as Serene drew another breath, continuing with the story. “For many years Barnibus lived in exile, all the while plotting his revenge, and one cold December night, he got it. In an act of true cowardice, Barnibus crept into Arthur’s room and stabbed him to death as he slept. After the murder, Barnibus was apparently satisfied at having avenged his father’s death as he has not returned to the castle since.”

  “Wow,” Cora puffed. She felt out of breath from riding along with all the twists and turns of her mother’s story. Yet questions remained. “So, why are we still at war?”

  “Because of you,” Serene replied very matter-of-factly.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, because of you and Patrick.”

  “And that’s where the story ends,” a man’s voice interjected from the shadows. Thomas stepped out from the darkened doorway to Cora’s room where it appeared he had been listening for several minutes. He seemed calmed; the fiery anger that had burned so brightly in the ballroom had faded from his eyes. He walked toward his wife and daughter and looked on Serene with an expression of pain.

  “Thomas. I…I––” Serene blubbered.

  “She’s heard enough,” he replied with patient insistence.

  He looked sullen after reliving the past that he had tried so desperately to hide from Cora. She felt compelled to reach out to him, to assure him that the mistakes he had made in trusting the Treinbaulms were only a testament to his loyal and loving heart, but instead fell silent. Both parents exited her room with heads hung low.

  As soon as the door thudded shut Motley poked his head out from beneath Cora’s bed. “Now that was a doozy!” he chirped, giving Cora a start.

  “Jeez, Motley, you about gave me a heart attack!” she scolded.

  “Sorry, but I couldn’t wait anymore! Do you know how hard it was to sit through all that without saying anything? Your poor dad. His best friend not only betrays him but also kills his pop! And then his daughter goes and swoons the night away with the murderer’s son!”

  “How was I supposed to know?” Cora replied sadly, curling up in her bed, “Jeez, now I feel like a real jerk.”

  Twelve: A Walk in the Clouds

  It was clear at the breakfast table that nothing from the previous night had been forgotten or forgiven. Motley sloppily gorged on his food and asked for seconds and thirds before finally saying, “Lighten up, you glum bunch!” After licking the glistening syrup from his whiskers, he continued, “What’ve we really got to be so sad about?”

  Cora contemplated her friend’s question for a moment, as did her parents. They simultaneously raised their eyes to look at Motley, who was thoroughly enjoying every bite of his breakfast and looking terribly goofy in the process. He had ribbons of syrup hanging from the corners of his mouth and had somehow managed to get a dab of powdered sugar directly in the middle of his nose.

  A smile tugged at the corners of Thomas’s mouth and he let out a small chuckle. The frivolity was contagious and before they knew it the entire table erupted with laughter. Once they’d laughed themselves hoarse, the mood in the room was decidedly lighter.

  Thomas and Serene filled Cora’s morning with lighthearted activities while Motley apprenticed himself to Fergie in a shameless ploy to win more kitchen scraps. Serene fussed with locks of Cora’s hair while Thomas narrated numerous great deeds of his father, Arthur Finnegan. The king’s eyes became large and sparkled as he told of Arthur’s adventures in The Backworlds. As a young man, Arthur had made it his mission to explore the cruel and treacherous Backworlds in an effort to better understand it. Accompanied by his friend and second man, Michael, Arthur braved many months in The Backworlds and returned a wiser, but different man.

  According to Thomas’s mother, Violet, Arthur was never quite the same after his time spent below. His cheeks were never as rosy or his laughter as hearty. The essence of innocence and beauty that had abounded in him seemed choked by too much knowledge of pain and cruelty. Michael, on the other hand, was nearly unrecognizable upon his return as he had morphed into a hideous creature. Violet maintained that Arthur never forgave himself for subjecting Michael to The Backworlds.

  Cora wanted to know exactly what happened to Michael, but was enjoying Thomas’s agreeable mood too much to ask. He seemed elated at the opportunity to tell his stories uninterrupted, and as such, continued on without any notable encouragement from his audience.

  The sunlight of early afternoon crept through the stained glass window and painted the room with a myriad of colors. As the violet, blue and green danced across his skin, the intensity with which Thomas told of Arthur’s triumphs seemed to heighten and come to life. Serene, who was still listening alongside Cora and fussing with bits of her hair, looked to her husband with silly amusement and began to giggle.

  “What?” It was clear that this storytelling was serious business and Thomas wasn’t about to be diverted from it for some frivolous reason.

  Serene replied with softness to her voice. “It’s nothing, my love. Only that the light of day has shown us how silly we are to remain indoors on such a beautiful afternoon.”

  Pausing for a moment, Thomas stroked his chin like some wise old man, tethering the strands of his goatee between his fingers. “You know,” he mused. “Cora has seen so little of Clouden. Perhaps a walk in the clouds should be
in order today.”

  #

  Outside, they made their way toward the stables after deciding that Clouden was best seen from the backs of pegasuses. Thomas explained that the pegasuses felt they owed a great debt to the people of Clouden in repayment for providing the creatures with a refuge from The Backworlds, where they had been persecuted for their uniqueness. The winged beasts offered their transportation services to Cloudenians, and took turns inhabiting the castle stables.

  Cora was paired with a shimmering steed named Orion who knelt down with a bow and beckoned her aboard. As all the other creatures of Clouden, Orion could speak, though Pegasuses could only speak in rhyme:

  “The princess is riding high,

  all for a view of the sky.

  And I shall be her guide,

  the others’ll think I’ve lied!

  But surely Miss Cora will say,

  that I was her steed on this day.

  And showed her the world of her birth,

  while singing this tale of mirth.

  To Pegasus Plain we’ll go,

  and Unicorn Valley I’ll show.

  For no beauty is greater I’d say,

  than what those with four hooves can display!”

  Orion gave a dazzling grin and shot a sideways look at Serene and Thomas’s mounts, who nodded approvingly.

  The trail from the castle into greater Clouden was cobblestone, much like that of the castle floor, and the sound of the pegasuses’s hooves reverberated against the hard surface and set a pleasant rhythm to their journey. Cora felt like a child discovering toys that had been put away for years and felt new when found again. She was delighted as the caravan passed by a small village of curious cottages that flanked the castle grounds. Friendly faced occupants with elfin features appeared intermittently, waving from their windows.

  Just outside the village lay the Wildwood Faerie Mounds, where massive knolls of earth were carpeted with velveteen moss and peppered with waxy red and orange toadstools. Miniature rounded doors of gold that fit into the hillsides hinted at the fairies’ tiny statures. Cora searched every inch of the mounds in hopes of a fairy sighting, but saw none. As Thomas explained it, the Fae were a decadent race of creatures, preferring to sleep late into the day, thereby affording themselves more evening time amid the cloak of night’s cover to relish in their mischievous endeavors.