by Lelia Eye
His eyes narrowed. “That’s the way it should stay. I have no intention of betraying my people by providing you with secrets about our way of life—”
“That is not what I meant!” Tierra interrupted in exasperation.
“Then what did you mean, Princess?”
The curve of his disdainful smile and the rise of his eyebrow revealed that though he had referred to Tierra by her title, there was no respect meant by his doing so. The title had been more of an epithet than an honorific. For a moment, Tierra wanted to give him a tongue-lashing.
But reason reasserted itself. Tierra was not the type of person to be confrontational or put on airs. Yes, she was a member of the royal family, but she believed that her social status did not make her a better person than anyone else.
Furthermore, she did not wish to be at odds with the Skychild. Not only was he stuck with her as a mistress, but she was stuck with him as a slave, and it would be better for them both if they were at least comfortable in one another’s company. She knew his belligerence would fade with time and distance from his capture.
“I simply mean that I am interested to hear about your people,” Tierra said. “I wish to hear anything you would like to tell me about the way you live, what your home is like, and how it feels to be up among the clouds. It must be such an adventure to live on the clouds themselves!”
He looked at her warily, as if trying to discern whether she was serious in expressing her interest. Then he said with a shrug, “It’s my home.”
She should have predicted his reaction; living among the clouds must be commonplace for him, after all. He would see nothing mysterious about it.
And so her placatory response was: “Yes, it is. Perhaps when we become more familiar with one another, we may discuss things which interest us both. I have lived all my life in the castle, and while I have visited elsewhere, I do not know much about other places. I am genuinely interested in hearing anything you have to say about your home, as I told you. I certainly do not expect you to share secrets which you should not.”
The Skychild gazed at her, but though his demeanor was thoughtful, his expression did not alter a jot from its previous haughtiness.
Tierra suppressed a sigh. She had the feeling she would not be gaining his trust any time soon.
Celesta has always been a jealous goddess, desiring obedience and love while lavishing the same back on her children tenfold.
As her children were now established in their bright homes in the sky, Celesta sat back and thought on all she had done. The world was clean and good, and her descendants ruled over it as she had intended. And if the stain of Terrain’s children cast a blight over the land, still they were descended from those she originally created, and she was content to allow them to live their lives as they would.
Since the dawn of creation, Celesta had taken a moment every day to meditate on the great good she had wrought. By the time that Sterling had passed from the mortal plane, the Skychildren had begun to look upon Celesta as a deity, and they could no longer claim to know her well. And thus, when her descendants asked how they should worship her, she knew they had need of comfort before she departed, and she taught them that meditation was the best way for communing with her and all her creation.
—The Book of Celesta
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Duties
Skye’s first few days in the Groundbreather castle passed uneventfully. Though Princess Tierra had repeatedly attempted to find out more about him, he refused to speak with her any more than necessary. She represented everything that he hated about the Groundbreathers: their obtuseness in the face of Celesta’s glory, their eternally ground-bound state, and their engagement in such a barbaric practice as slavery. They were a contemptuous people, and he would not dignify them with anything other than derision. Furthermore, he had no intention of allowing any Groundbreathers to discover his position in the sky realm, lest they attempt to use such knowledge against his people.
During his first few days at the castle, he was instructed by Groundwalkers on how to perform his duties. The servants he spoke to tended to be rather soft-spoken, but he was unsure whether that was due to their nature or their reluctance to be closely associated with a Skychild. He had to admit to a certain level of curiosity regarding them, and he wanted to ask if they envied the powers of the Groundbreathers and the Skychildren, but their disinclination to chatter quelled his questions.
He learned quickly that it was fortunate that he had been given to the younger daughter rather than to her parents or elder sister. While the king appeared to be a bluff and kindly sort, the queen watched Skye with a dangerous glitter in her eyes, and it was obvious Skye would never have a moment’s rest in their company . . . particularly with that garm of theirs watching his every move. As for Princess Wisteria, it had taken all of a moment in the same room with her for him to realize that she was as spoiled as rotten cabbage. She would not hesitate to beat him should he make a misstep, and she would likely enjoy it. But he had no desire to tempt fate while wearing one of their blasted slave collars, and so he tried to avoid Queen Sequoia and Princess Wisteria when possible.
Skye’s duties were not onerous. He was expected to keep Princess Tierra’s quarters clean and to serve her every need in general.
Of course, he had other duties around the castle which did not have anything to do with his owner. They included menial tasks such as cleaning various rooms and gathering wood for the great fireplaces of the castle. Skye, who was unaccustomed to such work, initially found it a hardship, as his hands blistered quickly, especially when chopping firewood. He soon adapted to it, however, and he mentally thanked Cirrus for insisting that he learn how to handle a sword and other weapons, as it had made him better prepared for such work. He certainly put his physical training to good use, as he was sent all over the castle. The only place he was explicitly forbidden from entering was an odd room with a pool of water that the Groundbreathers seemed to revere. He had no desire to become involved in Groundbreather mysticism, so that particular rule governing his behavior was not unwelcome.
He tried not to think about Cirrus’s fate very often, knowing there was nothing to be done now but pray that Celesta would ensure Cirrus was spared the end promised by the Seneschal. To keep his morale up, Skye focused his mind instead on thoughts of how he might return to the sky realm. Hawkins was now a problem which required a permanent solution, and given the state of affairs in the sky realm, Skye had become certain that Hawkins was ruling through King Tempest. That could not be allowed to continue.
Throughout the course of his first few days with the Groundbreathers, Skye learned that there were other Skychildren living among the Groundbreather savages in the castle. Both the king and queen had their own slaves, as did the spoiled elder princess. Skye had met the king and queen’s slaves once already, and he had been severely disappointed by them. They had been entrenched in their positions for so long that their eyes seemed soulless, and the demeanor of submission had completely suffocated any personalities they might have once had. Just looking at them filled him with so much disgust that he thereafter avoided them as much as possible. They had been at the Groundbreather castle for far too long, he knew. Yet it was possible that Princess Wisteria’s slave would not be nearly so cowed, and he resolved to seek him out.
It was on a morning nearly a week after his capture that he finally ran across Princess Wisteria’s slave while on an errand for Princess Tierra.
Even without the drab slave garb he was wearing, the other Skychild would have stood out from the other castle inhabitants. With his fair skin and short hair, not to mention his brilliant green eyes, he obviously belonged in the ground realm no more than Skye did. Yet whereas Skye held himself proud and tall, the other man was mantled in a cloak of servitude much like that of the king and queen’s slaves. Yet there was something in him that gave Skye a spark of hope.
As the two men came upon
each other in a corridor, the other Skychild glanced at Skye before moving as if to bypass him completely.
“Wait,” Skye said, grasping the man’s arm. Though part of him recoiled at the notion of touching and conversing with a dishonored Skychild, Skye would far rather speak with him than with the most lauded Groundbreather. And at this point, he was desperate to talk to one of his own people for even a few moments.
The other Skychild looked at him, not even bothering to take his arm away. There was a flicker of nervousness behind his eyes, but his face otherwise remained expressionless.
Skye relinquished his grip on the man’s arm, giving him a quick examination. After noting his youth, Skye hazarded, “Are you Princess Wisteria’s slave?”
The Skychild inclined his head in confirmation but said nothing.
Skye studied him a moment longer before asking, “What’s your name?”
The man’s eyes darted around as he hesitated. Slaves were not supposed to use their names, as Skye had been made well aware. But finally, the other Skychild answered in a low voice, “Gusty.”
In a voice laced with steel, Skye told him, “I am Prince Skye, heir to the Skychild throne.”
Gusty’s eyes widened, and he seemed to grow more nervous. “Prin—Your Highness, umm, Skye,” he stammered, obviously uncertain of how to address him. “Why are you here?”
But the sound of footsteps moving down the hallway came to Skye’s ears, and he said, “Another time,” and then he moved to continue with his errand once more. He would find a way to speak with Gusty again.
* * *
When Skye returned to Princess Tierra’s chambers after his encounter with Gusty, he found them empty, and he began to tidy things up. The princess was not messy by any means, yet there was always something to be done. He had not before realized how much work was involved in keeping a room in pristine condition.
It was as he was passing by the princess’s pet songbird that he heard a voice say: “I’ve been watching you.”
Skye jumped in midair, cursing. Then he spun to face the bird.
It was the most hideous specimen of songbird he had ever seen, looking like some molting brown chick instead of a fully grown adult. The bird was small and disproportioned, as though its head was too big for its body, with black eyes that protruded from either side of its oversized and multicolored beak. Below its beak was an uninspired wattle, the brown fleshy protrusion hanging loosely, much as the loose flesh of an old woman hung in folds. While all Skychildren could talk to birds, this one had never shown any inclination to speak with Skye, and he had simply assumed it was as dumb as it was ugly. Obviously, he had been mistaken. It seemed the bird’s intelligence were more akin to that of a raven than a turkey.
“Have you?” Skye asked coolly, trying to regain his composure.
The bird shifted on its perch, stretching pinioned wings. “Yes. You don’t act like a Skychild who has lost his honor.”
“That’s because I’m not one,” Skye snapped. “The reason I’m here is because of the actions of a traitor to the crown.”
“Interesting,” the bird said, looking him over with dark beady eyes. “And what is your name?”
“I am Prince Skye, heir to the Skychild throne,” he answered haughtily. There was something about this bird that had him out of sorts. He had held limited conversations with other avian creatures, yet he was noticing a gleam of intelligence in this particular specimen that he had never come across before. Most birds were focused on things relevant to them, such as food and nest-making. And they certainly had no notions of honor. This bird’s perceptiveness was unsettling, to say the least.
“You may call me ‘Strix,’” the bird said in response, sounding amused, as if talking to a child who was dressed up and pretending to be a king.
“And you may call me ‘Your Highness,’” Skye returned, his hackles raised. “These miserable Groundbreathers may not know who I am, but I deserve to be treated with respect.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” the bird said. Yet the statement felt more like a mockery than a victory.
“How did a bird such as you get caught up in a place like this?”
Before Strix could answer, the door to the princess’s chambers opened.
“Oh!” Tierra said in surprise. “I was unaware you were here.”
Skye nearly let out a laugh as he turned to look at her. She had made it sound as though she were intruding upon his privacy rather than the reverse. “As a slave,” he said darkly, “I tend to be everywhere, and one of my tasks is to clean your room, if you’ll recall.”
She stared at him for a moment, her brow furrowed, and then she asked him, “Why are you so contemptuous of me?” Not her people, but her. The distinction seemed strange.
Skye resisted the urge to look away, instead standing a little taller. “It is barbaric to participate in a practice like slavery. Skychildren are much more civilized than this. Such a thing is deserving of contempt by itself.”
Princess Tierra pursed her lips. “You may be right that the practice is . . . not ideal, but your attitude is not helping your situation. You should do what you are asked without complaint, or there will be consequences.”
“And what are those consequences?” he asked, stalking toward her.
The princess did not seem to fear him or his close proximity in the slightest; instead, she shook her head with exasperation and looked up at him. “Surely you cannot be so simple as to misunderstand your situation.”
“No, Princess,” he said, looming over her, “I understand exactly what your barbaric people have in store for me if I don’t do as I’m told, and I am well aware of the general disdain in which I’m held by Groundbreathers. I find that I’m much more interested in being true to myself than in pretending subservience to the enemy of my people.”
Her expression unreadable, Tierra stared up at him. When she finally responded, her voice had a hint of a plaintive quality to it. “I really do not know why you insist on behaving this way.”
Skye cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”
“I am not the one who captured you. I am certainly not the one who enslaved you. My mother gave me no choice when she pushed you on me. Can we not make the best of our situation?”
She was telling the truth, Skye reflected, and loath as he was to admit it, she had a point. She was not the enemy per se, but that did not change the fact that the more he saw of Groundbreather civilization, the more disgusted he was. And it was more than their practice of slavery—it was the general stodginess of the place, the confined nature of much of the society, and the fact that he was forced into servitude when he was a prince of his people. That last could never be forgiven.
“You aren’t my enemy, Princess,” he said quietly, turning from her and taking a few steps away. “I will make the best of things with you. But I can’t accept this situation. And I can guarantee that I won’t put up with it.”
Though he knew he was taking a chance—all but stating his intention to escape—he thought he had some measure of Tierra. She was not the typical Groundbreather, and he did not think she would say anything to her parents that would result in his being punished.
“You are different from the other Skychildren,” she said. As he turned back, he saw her eyeing him with a frown. “You are difficult to understand.”
Skye shrugged. “Perhaps my situation is simply different. I wouldn’t try to educate you on the nuances of Skychild honor.”
Tierra’s lip curled in distaste. “Nor would I wish you to.”
“Then I believe we understand one another, Princess,” Skye said. “Don’t worry—I’ll try to be suitably humble and not get you in trouble with the queen.”
Though Tierra appeared skeptical, she said nothing further.
Skye finished cleaning her room, and then he excused himself. Tierra was not that bad for a Groundbreather, he supposed. But she would eventually find out, li
ke the rest of her people, that Skye would not stand for this ignoble life.
The contentment of her children in their life among the clouds was a source of great inspiration for Celesta, reminding her why she loved the works of her hands.
Terrain’s actions had marred Celesta’s creation. But the beauty of her works could still be seen in what remained, and though she wished to set her son back on the path she would have him walk, she knew that for him to achieve any growth, no matter how small, he would be required to make his own choices.
But the world was good, it was right, and it was beautiful, and Celesta now understood that her intention to destroy it had been nothing more than the impulse of the moment.
The vastness of her love for the moon’s companion was revealed to her in all its glory, and from that moment, Celesta vowed she would never again try to destroy the greatness of her creation.
—The Book of Celesta
CHAPTER
NINE
Recapture
Life in the Groundbreather castle was so oppressive that Skye found himself becoming more disgusted with the state of affairs as time wore on. In the sky realm, servants performed their jobs with efficiency and dedication, but they could never be called submissive. In fact, the lowest scullery maid in his father’s palace was as proud as the king himself.
Skye could not fathom how the other Skychildren in the Groundbreather castle could be so . . . so . . . passive. That was so unlike the nature of Skychildren that he simply could not understand it. Still, the loss of honor could likely do strange things to a person’s self-esteem, he supposed, and had he truly lost his own honor, then he might have felt the same way as the other Skychildren in the castle.