Airs and Graces

by Toby Bishop

The moment he began to gallop, Lark twisted her head to look over her shoulder.

  Diamond’s gray hooves touched. She stumbled, and her wings scraped across the stubble, but she caught herself and broke into an uneven canter, one wing higher than the other, her head weaving. It wasn’t pretty, but she was down. She was safe.

  They reached the end of the field, and Lark leaped from her saddle to throw her arms around Tup’s neck. “Lovely, lovely boy! Brave boy! I don’t care what they do to us for ruining Ribbon Day—you saved her!”

  Diamond trotted up behind them and stood, sides heaving, wings drooping.

  Lark approached her cautiously, holding out a hand for her to sniff, breathing into her pretty face when she was close enough. Diamond leaned against her, trembling, and Lark put her arms around the filly’s slender wet neck. “You poor little thing,” she said. “Poor little Diamond. Here, let me show you. Fold your wings, now.”

  With gentle hands, she helped the filly to fold her wings, rib to rib, the silvery membrane darkening to charcoal as it contracted. She dripped with sweat and foam, and Lark had nothing to dry her with.

  “Come now, both of you,” Lark said briskly. “You’re both hot. Let’s walk.”

  By the time Mistress Star reached them, Diamond was dry and cool, and beginning to recover, but she wouldn’t stir a step from Tup’s side. She pressed as close to him as she possibly could, her nose touching his shoulder, her shoulder tight against his folded wing.

  As the Headmistress dismounted Lark blurted, “Mistress Star, I’m sorry, but she was—”

  Mistress Star held up a hand. “You were quite right, Larkyn. Well done. And well done to you, too, Seraph. You did just what Star and I would have done myself.”

  LARK walked the two horses back to the Academy on the road. Though Diamond had no halter, they didn’t need it. She clung to Tup’s side while Lark led the way. Mistress Star flew back to finish the Ribbon Day ceremonies. By the time Lark and Tup and Diamond reached the stables, the first-level girls were just finishing their drills, the sun was setting in a haze of gold and scarlet, and Lord Francis was standing on the Hall steps, ready to give them their ribbons.

  A few lords and ladies still sat in the courtyard, sipping cups of tea Matron had brought them. Their conversion died as Lark appeared with the two horses.

  Duke William arrived moments afterward. He leaped down from a phaeton drawn by two swift-looking bays, with Jinson at the reins. Jinson climbed down more slowly, after securing the traces. He had a halter and wingclips in his hands, and a look of shame on his face.

  Duke William, evidently, felt no such shame. He swept across the courtyard toward Lark, his open greatcoat swirling around his polished boots. Lark was shocked at his appearance. His face had grown fuller, and his chest, though he wore a tight vest buttoned to his neck, swelled visibly behind the lapels of his coat. He seemed to have gained weight around the hips as well, so that his narrow black trousers pulled across the middle. The angry look in his eyes was familiar, though, and the high timbre of his voice. He stalked up to Lark, causing Tup to pull back and flatten his ears. Diamond threw up her head, and stared at him.

  “So, brat,” the Duke said. “It’s you again.”

  “Aye, my lord.” She lifted her chin. “Yon filly was in trouble, sir.”

  “My filly,” he said.

  Lark glanced at Diamond, who shrank back against Tup, watching the Duke with wide eyes. As the Duke stepped close to her, one hand out, Tup bared his teeth. The little filly’s ears drooped, and flicked confusedly from Tup to the Duke.

  “Diamond,” the Duke said. Lark blinked in surprise at the gentleness in his tone. “Come to me, my little Diamond. Let’s get you home.”

  “She must have seen the flights, sir,” Lark said. “You’ll need to wingclip her now, and you’ll need a monitor. She shouldn’t fly alone.”

  “A monitor.” He shot a look of fury over her head at Jinson. “Find me one, Jinson.”

  “M’lord, I don’t know…”

  “I’ll take the brat, then,” William said. “Now that she’s already done it.”

  “You won’t take her anywhere,” Francis said. Lark caught a swift breath and turned to find that Lord Francis had come up behind them, and stood now at a comfortable distance from Tup and Diamond, but close enough to give his lord brother a steady stare. “Larkyn is now a third-level Academy student, finalizing her training to be a horsemistress. This is hardly a time to take her away from her studies.”

  William’s face reddened. “Must I remind you, Francis, that I’m the Duke, and you’re not? If I command one of my flyers to do something, she does it. She can come and stay at Fleckham House—with her little black, of course—and teach my Diamond to fly. In fact, I order it.”

  “No, you don’t,” Francis said. Lark felt that her eyes must be stretched as wide as Diamond’s. It didn’t seem possible that Lord Francis, gentle, kind Francis, could stand against the violence and madness of his brother. Duke William began to turn his quirt in his fingers, and his eyes hardened. Lark looked around for someone to help, but the lords and ladies kept their distance, though they looked on with avid expressions. The horsemistresses watched from the steps of the Hall. Mistress Star, it seemed, was poised to act if necessary, but Mistress Star was a slight woman, only barely taller than Lark herself.

  Lark clung to Tup’s rein. She kept her chin thrust out, but she trembled inside. She struggled for something to say that would forestall such a disaster. If she were forced to go to Fleckham House—this madman would kill her! He would find an opportunity, catch her alone, and there would be no one to protect her.

  But Francis, in a mild tone, said, “William. Let’s talk a moment.” To Lark’s surprise, Francis put a hand under William’s arm and led him across the courtyard. It seemed to her that the Duke resisted, but briefly. When they were out of earshot, Francis began to speak. He kept his hand on the Duke’s arm, and Lark remembered how hard that hand had grown, doing a farmer’s work. Francis spoke, and William pulled back, glaring at him. Francis spoke again, his free hand making a sharp movement, his face intent. The two brothers stared at each other for long moments as Lark held her breath.

  And then William gave a short, humorless laugh that carried across the courtyard in the dusk. He turned his back on Francis and strode back to Tup and the filly.

  Jinson handed him the halter and lead, and William went to the filly and buckled it on. She tolerated this, but Tup backed away, making Diamond whicker longingly at him. William tugged on her lead, and she followed him, her wings flexing, her ears turning back to Tup. To Lark, every line of her body spelled reluctance, spoke of her longing to be close to another winged horse.

  The Duke gave Lark one last, malevolent look over his shoulder. He didn’t speak, but the glitter in his black eyes made her blood run cold.

  She shivered and turned to Jinson, forcing herself to speak in a level voice. “Does the little one have an oc-hound to foster her?”

  “She did, but the dog didn’t like the Duke,” he said. “So he sent him away. Her dam is breeding again, so she’s off at the Ducal Palace. The filly just has His Grace for a companion.”

  “She’s sad,” Lark said.

  “Aye, Miss. I fear so.”

  “You should find her a wingless horse, at least, something for company.”

  Jinson glanced down at her. “Young or old?”

  Lark shrugged. “That doesn’t matter so much as that they like each other. Some horses take to each other, and some don’t.”

  Jinson sighed and started after the Duke, who was tying the filly’s halter lead to a ring behind the phaeton.

  “Oh, and Jinson,” Lark said, trotting after him. “She’s tired. She flew much too far for such a young horse, and on her first flight. Keep a gentle pace as you go back.”

  “I’ll try, Miss. But His Grace likes to take the reins.”

  Moments later, they were gone, the Duke whipping up the bays, the little silve
r filly trotting prettily behind the phaeton. Tup whickered as she left the courtyard, and she whinnied a response.

  Lark stood with one hand on Tup’s neck, frowning. When Lord Francis came up to her, to hand her the ribbon she had earned that day, she dropped Tup’s reins and stepped away to meet him. Francis smiled at her as he pinned the ribbon on her tabard.

  “Lord Francis,” she said. “What did you say to the Duke?”

  “I warned him,” Francis said quietly. “That I would tell these lords and ladies in the courtyard all about Pamella. It’s the only real threat I have to control him.”

  “Aye,” Lark said, nodding. “He would not want that to come out.”

  “No. He hasn’t admitted anything, but he knows there is too much talk already.” Francis looked after the Duke’s phaeton as it turned into the road. “I think I will ask the Prince to release me from his service so that I can come home to Osham. Someone must prevent William from further madness.”

  “Lord Francis,” Lark asked. “Do you know where she’s gone?”

  He knew, it seemed, who was on her mind at that moment. “No, Larkyn. I don’t. But I can guess.”

  “Will you tell me?”

  “It’s better you don’t know. Better for you, and safer for Philippa.”

  She released a long breath, full of the excitement and the fear and the tension of the day. “I wish she could have seen me,” she said. “Winning my second-level ribbon.”

  “I’m sure she feels the same, Larkyn.” He smiled. “Let us hope that one day, William and the Council Lords will reconsider, come to their senses.”

  “Could she return then? Come back to the Academy?”

  “Amnesty could be granted. But William would have to agree.”

  Lark shook her head. “I don’t think he ever will.”

  “Anything can happen, Larkyn, if an Uplands farm girl can become a horsemistress.”

  She flashed him a grin. “Oh, aye. Miracles! We’d best put Mistress Winter in Kalla’s hand and see what happens.”

  Tup whickered at her, and she turned to speak to him. “Aye, Tup, I know. Excuse me, Lord Francis. Tup here wants his supper.”

  “Go, then. I’ll see you in the Hall. Your Headmistress invited me to celebrate this great day with all of you.”

  “Aye, my lord. A lovely great day indeed.”

  As Lark turned into the stables, where the other girls had already untacked and fed their horses, she was still thinking of Mistress Winter. She wondered if, wherever she might be, Philippa would know that she and Tup had passed their Airs and Graces.

  At Tup’s stall, Amelia Rys was waiting for her, holding the gate open, a faint smile on her narrow face. It occurred to Lark that there might be one person, after all, who knew where Philippa had gone.

  As Lark led Tup in out of the cooling evening air, Amelia said, “Congratulations, Black! I watched everything. You and Seraph were marvelous.”

  “Thank you,” Lark said. “It was mostly Tup.”

  “I’ll help you rub him down.”

  They went into Tup’s stall and rubbed him dry. Amelia filled his water bucket while Lark measured grain and buckled his blanket over him. The nights were drawing in, and soon there would be frost on the grass in the mornings.

  “Your class will be arriving before long, Amelia,” Lark said. “You’ll be flying before you know it.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  As they left the stables and climbed the steps to the Hall for the festive supper awaiting them, Lark looked hard into Amelia’s eyes, trying to guess if she knew something.

  Amelia smiled as if she understood perfectly, but she said not a word.