by Lelia Eye
The Seneschal was a matter all by himself. Even the mere thought of Seneschal Hawkins was enough to make Tierra shudder. Every time she and Skye came across him, he glared at Skye with a burning hatred that reminded her of Wisteria.
When she mentioned such a comparison to Skye in the dining hall, he looked up at Hawkins with a loathing that matched the other man’s own. “That filthy dirt-eater doesn’t belong here,” Skye said in a low voice. “I don’t know what he’s doing to my father, and I don’t know how to stop him. But Celesta help us all if I can’t figure out something soon.”
“Have you tried talking to some of the people in your father’s court? If your father is not exactly . . . ah, of sound mind, could provisions be made to remove him from the throne?”
Skye snorted. “Don’t think the thought hasn’t occurred to me. But half the people in the court fear Hawkins, and the other half is made up of a bunch of stuffed-shirts who would rather suffer under a mad king than do something untraditional.”
“It could not hurt to try.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” Skye said darkly. “If my father got word of it, he’d throw me out of the sky before I could even blink.”
“I still think it worth a second thought at least.”
Skye shrugged, but he did not seem inclined to agree.
Tierra studied him for a moment, and then, with a certain level of trepidation, she said slowly, “Skye, I think we should talk about your friend and the Fenik.”
Scowling, Skye looked around surreptitiously, but Tierra just gave him an impatient glare. “There is no one close by, Skye,” she said. “Do you think I would have spoken of it if anyone were standing near us?”
“It’s a delicate subject, Tierra. We can’t talk about it anywhere we might be overheard.”
Tierra looked at him expectantly, and Skye, after a moment of staring back, gave an exasperated sigh. “What did you want to know?”
“Skye, I think your friend was wrapped up in trying to find the Fenik, and now that you have brought me here as a hostage for its return, I think I at least deserve an answer as to what in Celesta’s skies is going on.”
His expression softening, Skye shook his head. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you that, Tierra. Cirrus’s mention to me of the Fenik was in the midst of a fevered delirium, and I couldn’t get anything more from him. That he was looking for it in the Groundbreather world was conjecture . . . or maybe something stronger than conjecture. I’m not even certain myself.”
“But how could he have thought to find it when it has been missing for centuries?” Tierra demanded. “We stole it millennia ago, if you recall.”
“I really don’t know. He never confided in me.” Skye paused for a moment, as if in thought. “But it seems to lend credence to the thought that your parents might know where the Fenik is.”
“That is something I still do not understand. Why would you think that my parents know about the Fenik? And why, after all this time, did a guardsman start taking an interest in it?”
“It could be that he discovered something,” Skye said. “Some forgotten information about it which makes it dangerous in Groundbreather hands. As for why we might think you have it—well, you did steal it from us, after all. Whenever my people speak of the Fenik, the Groundbreathers are always cursed for taking it. My people have long memories.”
“As do mine. But that long memory does not include knowing anything about where the Fenik is.”
Skye smiled at her fondly. “Tierra, I’m not accusing your people of anything. We don’t get along, and your ancestors were right in fearing what the Fenik could do. But you have to admit that even if your parents don’t have the Fenik in their possession, they might still know where it is or have some knowledge about it that was passed down from past monarchs. That creature in the mountains, for example—your parents might know if that’s the Fenik.”
Tierra paused as she absorbed Skye’s assertion. After a little thought, she had to admit he could be right. If her parents did know of the Fenik, then it was possible they would not tell her. They would be more likely to tell Wisteria, as she was the next in line to the throne, and they would not want the knowledge to be lost. But something else bothered Tierra.
In a small voice, she asked, “If my parents do not have the Fenik, will just the knowledge that some creature up in the mountains is the Fenik be enough to set me free?”
Looking at her with compassion, Skye put his fork down and grasped Tierra’s hands between his own. “I’ll make sure it’s enough, Tierra. I don’t want a slave, as you well know. In fact, you aren’t a slave. You’re my friend, remember?”
A warm feeling welled up within Tierra’s breast, and she looked at Skye gratefully. But there was one other question to be asked. “And what if you do find the Fenik? You will have to forgive me if I do not want it to be used against my home.”
This time, Skye’s expression became troubled. “When Celesta left us, she gave us the Fenik to be used only in a time of great need. I don’t think that any Skychild would willfully go against her decree.”
Frowning with exasperation, Tierra said, “This may have escaped your notice, Skye, but your father is not exactly stable. Any attempt to predict what he—or that evil Seneschal of yours—might do is almost impossible.”
Skye gazed back at her, his expression determined. “Then I’ll make sure it isn’t used against you. You’re aware I have no love for most Groundbreathers, but I don’t want to commit genocide. And I certainly won’t allow someone else to do it either.”
Tierra’s eyes were wide. “Do you really think the Fenik could do something like that?”
“According to Skychild religious texts, yes, it could. In fact, it could do more than that. The Fenik has the power to destroy every living creature on this world . . . and perhaps even the world itself.”
“It would be better if it was not found at all,” Tierra said quietly. “I would rather be a slave than let your people gain control over a weapon which could destroy mine.”
“And you have to understand that I can’t allow your people to control such a weapon,” Skye replied firmly.
A silence descended between them. Skye picked up his fork and began to eat his meal again while Tierra watched him. She thought he was handling everything in a rather nonchalant sort of way, but when she noticed his distracted air, she realized he was merely hiding his distress.
“Forgive me if I hope the creature stays lost,” she finally said.
“I know how you feel,” was Skye’s only response.
Sighing, Tierra began to pick up a fork, only to pause as she felt the uncomfortable sensation of someone’s eyes on her. Looking up, she saw Queen Mista staring at her.
Now, there was a strange one. Though beautiful, the queen was pale and too thin, as if stress and sleepless nights had taken their toll. King Tempest always watched Skye carefully when he was near Queen Mista, so Tierra had as of yet to hear her speak more than ten words. Still, even those few words were enough to give the impression that the queen was childlike, and Skye’s own proffered opinion of the woman had not disabused her of the notion.
Not wanting to cause offense, Tierra smiled at her.
Queen Mista flushed and spoke a few words to her husband. He looked at Skye, his eyes glittering, and then he nodded and said something in response.
The queen stood and walked over to Tierra, staring down at her hands shyly. “Is it true?” she asked. “Do Groundbreathers really eat dirt for most of their meals?”
Tierra, who had been taking a drink from her cup, started choking. “Ex-excuse me?”
Skye remained silent, and glancing at him, Tierra thought she saw a tic in his jaw. He was obviously trying hard not to express his considerable anger.
Looking back at the queen, Tierra replied, “Actually, our food is similar to yours, Your Majesty.”
“Oh,” the queen said, looking disappointed. “Well, yo
u must tell me about your people. I get so bored here in the palace watching the same things day in and day out. You look so exotic! I could stare at you all day.”
“Umm, thank you,” Tierra said, not certain whether to be flattered or offended.
“In fact, my dear husband said I could take you around with me for a while. Do slaves need leashes, Skye?”
“Absolutely not,” Skye growled at last, glaring at his stepmother. His hands were clenching the table edge so tightly they were white, and Tierra would not have been surprised if he had vaulted over the table to strangle the woman. “And you can’t ‘take her around with you’ like a pet! She’s mine!”
“Actually, I belong to no one,” Tierra said darkly, but the angry prince merely shot her a withering glare.
“That’s not what I meant, Tierra! I just don’t think that it’s a good idea for you to go wandering around the palace without me.” He directed a glance about the room. “I don’t think my people are used to having you here. You would be better off sticking with me.”
But Tierra, who still felt unsettled about the issue of the Fenik, thought it might be beneficial for her to leave Skye’s side for a short time. At least she would get to know someone other than the prince or Gusty, and Mista did not seem like a bad sort. Given the woman’s general demeanor, Tierra suspected that someone else had orchestrated Mista’s behavior in the incident that had led to Skye’s banishment by the king, though whether it had been King Tempest’s doing or the Seneschal’s was unclear. The fact that Skye did not see it—or at least had not voiced such suspicions—showed something of a blind spot that she would not have expected.
“She’ll be fine with me,” Mista piped up. “I am the queen, after all.”
“You’re not just that,” Skye said in a low snarl. “You’re also a dirty-faced liar. I can’t even believe you have the courage to come and act like nothing happened when you were the reason I was banished to the ground world in the first place.”
Tierra glanced nervously at King Tempest, but Queen Mista was standing in such a way that he would be unable to see Skye’s face. Still, the king had to be growing suspicious as to why his wife was taking so long to ask a simple question.
“I didn’t mean for you to be banished,” the Skychild queen whimpered. “I was having a bad dream, and I wanted you to comfort me, but you wouldn’t do it. And I didn’t know what to do, and I was scared, and then your father got so angry—”
“That’s a load of Groundbreather-muck, and you know it. The only person who should be comforting you after nightmares is my father. And as for Tierra, if you think I will sit idly by and let you ruin someone else’s life—”
“But I don’t mean to ruin her life,” the queen said, looking as if she found the mere thought to be a horrific one. “I don’t have any companions, and I want a friend. It gets so boring here with only your father and my uncle to keep me company.”
“If you weren’t such a back-stabbing—”
“Skye,” Tierra interrupted, “I will be well. It will only be for a little while—is that not correct, Your Majesty?”
Queen Mista beamed at her, seemingly forgetting the unpleasant words that had been spilling from Skye’s mouth. “Yes, that’s right. But please call me ‘Mista.’ Even if you are a Groundbreather, I think we can be good friends!”
Tierra raised an eyebrow but did not comment. The queen definitely reminded her of a child. Fortunately, she knew how to handle children, having spent some time playing with River’s younger brothers and sisters.
“You can have one hour with her after she is finished with her meal,” Skye said stiffly. Had it not been for the fact that his father would have been seriously displeased if his wife had been refused her request, it was likely that Skye would have never even considered agreeing. “But if you do anything to her—”
“Perfect!” Queen Mista trilled in excitement. “We shall have so much fun together!”
Tierra was not certain how much fun they could have in an hour, but she was not about to disagree. Instead, she smiled at the queen and told her, “I look forward to it.”
“Oh! But one hour is not that long! I must plan how we will use it!” Queen Mista said, becoming thoughtful. “Regardless, it will be a grand time!”
As Queen Mista walked—or rather, pranced—away, still talking to herself, Skye turned to Tierra with a disgusted look on his face. “I can’t believe you’re actually encouraging that—that—”
“I think it is a good idea, Skye,” Tierra said, interrupting him before he found a suitable insult. “For one thing, it will give you a chance to talk to some people about Cirrus without me trailing behind you. After all, they may be more comfortable speaking to you alone without the odd Groundbreather listening to everything you are saying. And besides, you and Gusty cannot be the only people I talk to here. It would be nice to have female company.”
“I’m not sure she counts as female company. Not for anyone with half a brain anyway.”
“I think she is more than capable of helping procure me a new wardrobe at least,” Tierra said. “It seems as if it would be the sort of thing she would enjoy.”
Skye sighed. “You’re right about that. But I want to go on the record as saying this is a bad idea. I wouldn’t trust her with the life of a pigeon.”
“Protests noted,” Tierra said. “Who knows? Maybe I can convince her to persuade your father to release me without need of the Fenik.”
“I don’t think Celesta herself could change my father’s mind,” Skye said, “but you’re welcome to try. I think it’s more likely to backfire on you, though. After all, if Mista starts truly thinking of you as her dear companion, she won’t want to let you go.”
Tierra sighed. “Nothing is ever simple with you Skychildren.”
“Why should it be?” Skye said with a grin. “We wouldn’t want to be too different from you Groundbreathers, now, would we?”
* * *
After Tierra finished eating, Skye was more reluctant than before to part with her, even if Queen Mista was brimming with excitement at the notion of spending time with another woman. Skye was unable to determine the exact reason for his own hesitance; it was a feeling more than anything.
He felt . . . responsible for Tierra, having brought her up to his home against her will. It was his duty to ensure she was returned to the Groundbreather world unharmed, and he could not guarantee no one would try to harm her in the sky realm. The enmity between their peoples was an ancient and almost physical entity. Anything could happen.
The worst part was that he felt so uneasy in his father’s palace. This was not the carefree place in which he had been raised; instead, the atmosphere was tense and heavy, as though the entire kingdom were on the edge of a cloud, waiting for that final push to send it over the edge to crash down upon the world below. And Skye did not know how to prevent the catastrophe from occurring.
So he sat in the dining hall, watching as Tierra and Queen Mista walked away, wondering why he felt as though the former were in danger. Surely the Skychild palace was not a dangerous place, was it? After all, the Skychildren were still ruled by honor. That honor would prevent anyone from harming a guest in the palace, even if that guest was a Groundbreather. That had not changed, had it?
Sighing, Skye focused his attention back on his last few bites of food, attempting to eat without worry. But everything he put in his mouth seemed tasteless, and he could not keep his thoughts from Tierra and the queen.
He was still mulling the situation over in his mind when he happened to look up at the head table, where his father sat beside the Seneschal. Tempest appeared to be much the same as he had been the past year, though his eyes seemed unfocused. It was the Seneschal who particularly caught Skye’s gaze; the man was staring at him with distaste, but it was the sneering and smug expression on his face which drew Skye’s attention.
Hawkins was the author of all Skye’s troubles; he was certain o
f that. Mista had not a brain in her head; she had to have been acting on her uncle’s orders. The king’s erratic behavior had increased gradually over time, but the changes in him had not started until after Hawkins arrived on the scene. Skye’s banishment, his current feeling of distress, Cirrus’s death—these all had to be attributed to Hawkins. Could the man have arranged for something to happen to Tierra when she was out of Skye’s influence?
Skye directed a glare at the Seneschal, and then he stood and rushed from the room, intent upon finding Tierra. A guard outside the dining hall told him that the women had gone in the direction of the palace entrance, likely so they could walk in the town outside its walls.
Hurrying, Skye made for the entrance and passed through it, his eyes roving this way and that for some indication of where Tierra and Mista might be. They could not have gone far in such a short time.
His strides quickened, and he hastened ever faster, ignoring the confused looks he received as he strove to find Tierra.
“Skye!” a voice called out.
He stopped suddenly to see Gusty walking toward him with a smile on his face. Gusty’s warm expression, however, changed when he noted the state Skye was in. “What’s wrong?”
“Tierra!” Skye exclaimed, not altogether coherently. “Have you seen her?”
Though he seemed taken aback, Gusty nodded and pointed down the street. “I spoke to her for a moment outside the baker’s shop.”
Not giving the other Skychild a second glance, Skye hurried down the street, feeling rather than seeing that Gusty had followed him. He halted abruptly when he saw from a distance that Mista and Tierra were exiting a bakery with some steaming treats in their hands.
“What’s going on, Skye?” Gusty asked as he stopped beside the prince.
“Nothing,” Skye said. “I thought . . . well . . .”
In truth, he was not certain exactly what he had thought. Somehow, he had misread the situation, though he was not about to let his guard down now. Mista could have acted on her own in inviting Tierra to spend time outside with her, but knowing the relationship between the queen and the Seneschal as he did, Skye would not assume Tierra was safe until she was back under his protection. In his experience, Mista did not wipe her nose unless commanded to do so by her uncle.