Driven by my curiosity, I made a little loop back to the shack, and flew around it. The magic sparkles clearly hovered around the shack, as if it were special, hugging it from every direction.
When I looked up again, I couldn’t see Father and Rachel. Oh, no. Heavens. I’d lost them.
I darted after them — I imagined — trying to spot trampled grass or broken branches or anything. But I couldn’t find their tracks. I’d never thought myself a terribly crafty tracker, anyhow, but perhaps a lucky footprint or two…But nothing.
Trusting a gut feeling, I kept on in one direction, anyway.
What if they’d been devoured up by something dark and cumbersome in the forest? Just like my new bird friend Julian? A silly thought, but alone in the woods, what else would I expect. And I still felt chills thinking about Julian, hoping to see him again, just to see he was alright.
As to whether I’d feel sorry for this mean pair, I couldn’t make up my mind. Father was a horrible king and a cold-hearted person, but he was still my father, and perhaps these kinds of things were what kings did all around the world? Perhaps it was a thing of nature, that kings were this way? Cold, cruel, and unreasonable? But no, there were good kings, too. For instance, the old king of Sarastland, Dorian. He was a lovely person, a fantastic king, a man anyone would have wanted to rule their land. After my father vanished on his war endeavours and shady businesses, and started calling himself the Getaway King, Dorian and his wife had been wonderfully supportive friends to my mother. Kings didn’t have to turn cruel…
Sooner than I expected, I caught a glimpse of something colorful to my right, almost indecipherable behind the trees and brushwood, but I was lucky to notice it just so. I slammed in an extra flap with my left wing and did a sharp turn towards the sounds. But it wasn’t them. Gasping, I halted, until I made up my mind there was no need to be so shocked.
It was a lady in the oddest outfit. She wore an elegant pants-suit and mismatched farmer’s boots, which did not seem her size but twice too big. And as she trodded slowly along with a deliberate air, she held up a single blue feather close to her nose.
The feather caught my eye, and I cackled from surprise. Wasn’t that mine? I could have sworn the feather could have been one dropped by me. The exact same color and even a bit of sparkle on it, which must have been caught on from the castle. Now, this was getting odder by the minute.
The lady kept staring intently at the feather, so she didn’t seem to notice me hovering and fluttering close by. Keeping a bit of distance, just to be sure, I followed her, as she took another step, then one in a slightly different direction, then one back again. She stared at the feather so intently that she hardly even had a chance to look where she was headed. She crunched twigs and branches with those oversized boots without care to her surroundings, and her outstretched hand with the feather and dancing sparkles made us a kind of parade. I quite enjoyed this odd moment.
Then, with her expression changing, she suddenly halted and wrapped her other hand around the one holding the feather, so she held it like a candle. She stood completely still for a moment, until, reassured, apparently, she turned towards the left and began trudging on again, slowly, but now in a straight line, with an air of confidence.
All in all, this looked a lot like what one does with a wicker, when looking for underground water veins to find a good spot to dig a well. Only, she was using a feather instead of a twig. Perhaps she was looking for something else? What did one look for, with feathers? Was this regularly done? But, oh well. I would have shrugged my shoulders if it wouldn’t have made me jump in the air.
Then we both heard the King’s and Rachel’s voices — the feather woman heard them, too, judging from her jerk. She ducked and clambered away from them, trying to stay under cover in the brush.
The King and Rachel stood only a dozen yards away and exchanged quick words in impatient tones. At least I’d found them again! I quickly dove into the foliage, too, to get some cover, and crossed the distance between us, because I wanted to get close this time, in order not to lose them, but I most definitely didn’t want them to see me, either.
“The house has to be here somewhere,” Rachel said in a screeching voice. “I can sense magic around here. It’s got to be close by, I swear. And look at these bunches of willows! It could be any one of these. But none of them have a house in them, surprise, surprise.”
Except this one, right in front of us? Take a look? Just look!
Couldn’t Rachel see it? How blind could you be?
Of course, I was happy they didn’t catch the witch to rip out her heart — was I? I wasn’t sure, I just wasn’t comfortable with the whole idea in general — but still, how frustrating could you be? Were King John and Rachel even looking for houses, like, were they here for a picnic or what? If I’d had heels, I would have tapped them against the floor.
I glanced at my feet again, confused, and decided to let that pass.
It was best I turned my attention to the hopeless pair going back and forth. And heavens, there, again: Rachel walked right past the house, only an arm’s length away.
Come on! She almost brushed it. But they just kept walking right past. Dumb, dumb, dumb humans, look around you? An arm’s length away from you? Do you not have eyes on you? I have teeny weeny little bird eyes, and I can see your stupid house! It’s in the willows, yes, right smack in the middle of a veritable jungle of them, all you need to do is lift your human eyes! I swear…
Rachel started back again, frowning. She seemed to be at least sensing something, but she was just as blind as the King. It was as if they couldn’t see anything at all, so, could it be that they did look straight in the direction of the house, but it simply wasn’t visible to them?
I chirped quietly to myself to soothe myself and ease my nervousness, as I worried I’d have to figure out a way to pass the waiting time, waiting for them to accomplish whatever they were supposedly doing…in order to figure out what I was supposed to do. Yes, that was the order of things. Oh, little bird brains, can’t you be just a tad bigger, too? I fluttered my feathers and turned to peck at my wing.
The King and Rachel walked up to each other and, after a few moments of conference, started up the small hill or mound there.
Still no. Wrong direction. No witches’ huts there. But you keep on walking…
Oh, why was I feeling so impatient?
A butterfly steered past me and fluttered in the air. It was a pretty orange, and I followed it with my gaze. Just then, the pants-suit-wearing feather woman appeared from the same direction, pushing through some of the sturdy masses of willow branch. She was back! What a busy night we were having at the Weird Wacky Woods!
The King and Rachel had disappeared from sight already, so they couldn’t have seen her, nor she them.
As the woman caught sight of the hut, she let out a yell and grinned to herself. So, she had been looking for this hut, too? Was this the place that the feather was supposed to lead her to?
How strange, how utterly strange, but I wasn’t going to be surprised over one more thing tonight. It was enough that my own bird feet made me dizzy.
The woman’s smile turned into warm, quiet laughter, private and small. She closed her fist over the feather and stood up straight, with an energetic, rejuvenated air to her gait.
And then she walked straight to the door and gave it a vigorous pull, as if she knew this place.
Chapter 11
I checked back and forth that the King and Rachel weren’t turning around and seeing any of this, as I followed the woman through the open door. I got in just before she slammed it closed with one hand behind her back, not even looking, as one might do at a familiar place.
“Ooh, where did you come from? What a pretty bird you are!”
The woman turned to fuss and search for something in the cupboards underneath a counter. Perhaps this was a makeshift kitchen, though there was no stove, only a fireplace, and some cabinets and counters. She returned w
ith something in her fist and sprinkled it on the iron plate in front of the fireplace. I fluttered down and found that to be cookie crumbs. They tasted freshly baked.
“Go ahead, eat, eat. This may be a witches’ shag, but here we don’t throw children and little birdies into soup pots, like in some fairytales…I mean, I am feeding you gingerbread cookies, but you needn’t worry.” She pressed her fingers over her smile. “Did that come out wrong? Seriously, I’m not cooking little birdies. Besides.” She leaned in to take a closer look at me. “Yeah, I thought so…You have some fantastic magic on you. That’s some fine, intricate detail, your magic. Incredible craftsmanship, really. I’ve never seen better. You don’t suppose you could tell me who has cast your spells, birdie?”
I chirped, but that was all I could do.
“No, I don’t suppose you can. Too bad. Whoever’s cursed you, was just too good, and you can’t even speak. You probably don’t even understand me, do you? Do you?”
Well no, of course I did, but how could I let her know? I bobbed my head.
“Eat, eat,” she only said, turning absent-minded. “Ah, you wouldn’t know anything about it, but it’s quite bitter-sweet to be sitting here alone like this, with nothing but you for company. I grew up here, this used to be my childhood home. And then, for the longest time, it was my older sister’s house. We popped by occasionally, me and the sisters, but it was Amalia’s house, then…And now she’s gone. Sometimes I can’t help but worry about what happened to her. What if she met the same fate as our mother…You know what happened to our mother?”
I bobbed. It was what I knew to do.
“Our mother was nearly fully fae, and do you know what that means? It means she had a jewel heart, and fae jewel hearts are something that many crooks would want to steal. The King knew about us, of course, like everyone did back then, when Amalia was still a famous healer and midwife. But he couldn’t find us in here, of course, with all our magic wards…Then one day, he found one us in the yard. It was one freezing day in the middle of the harshest winter. He was with a hedge witch…With poor magic, but it was enough to trick us just then. They walked through our wards and killed her. I was little, I don’t remember any of it, but I still hate the sound of horses…like the king’s horsemen, as they left, galloping through crunchy snow.”
I’d heard things like this about my father all through my childhood, and this was nothing new. But it stung every time. I wanted none of it to be true.
“So yes, King John killed our mother, to get a fae jewel heart. I’ve wondered, sometimes, what he did with it, and what good did it do him…and how can anyone live with that, knowing what they did? But still, look at us now. Where do we all live, all of us sisters? All except poor Amalia, our big sister…You see, she vanished nineteen years ago. But where do we live, all the rest of us, five of us sisters and our families? The Castle of Tairaland, of course! Ah, the irony. King John’s castle…Life has a funny way of working out in the most convenient and inconvenient ways at the same time, sometimes. It’s what we have to do, you understand…And we wouldn’t, but we still do…Oh, I can’t explain it. Be glad you don’t have these human problems, little bird!”
That was heartbreaking. But again, nothing new. I wished someone had a talk with my father and changed his ways. In any case, when the woman had mentioned Tairaland, I’d winced. She noticed my reaction.
“What is it…? Did I say something unexpected? What was that?…That Amalia is gone, and we don’t know where she is? I’m searching for her, to be honest…No, was it that I mentioned King John’s Castle?…The Castle of Tairaland? What, Tairaland?”
What better could I do but jump at each mention? I hopped and hopped, and she smiled.
“Tairaland? The Castle of Tairaland? What?” She laughed. “You like the castle? Is it your home? Is that where you’re from?…Oh. You want to go there?”
I hopped in merry little circles, and she frowned, concerned.
“It’s quite a long way to go. It’s that way,” she raised her hand, showing me the direction. “About fifteen miles. But if you need to find your way, it’s that way. When you get nearer, you can follow the river, it’ll lead you the rest of the way. The castle is by that river.”
All right, then. Running into my father and that witch had distracted me, but if I found my way back to the river I’d find home, I was sure. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been riding my horses all over the woods and fields, probably just not so much right around here.
Chapter 12
The castle of Tairaland, my dear home. It seemed huge and sinister, when one was as small as I. It loomed underneath me like a behemoth monster of gray stone.
I flew in through a third-floor window. It all came to me, now, clear in my mind, and I felt myself, all apart from resting on a pair of wings. The third-floor corridor whooshed past my eyes, as I crossed the length of the castle’s Eastern wing. I was just passing a door when I spotted something sparkling on the floor. It appeared stuck under the door — a fresh, red rose. It looked eerily similar to the one I’d thrown out the door when I’d been in the golden room with the witch, but it hadn’t dried or crumpled at all.
I flew lower and took a better look. Yes, it was stuck under the door, and the magic feel I got from it almost tinged the air. It had to be the same one I’d thrown in the corridor. It still had masses of masses of magic on it, so much that it sparkled, so I thought that was one way to alert people to what was going on…Once they saw that, they’d have to realize someone was using magic, playing tricks. I tried to yank it out, but I had hopelessly too little strength for that.
So, I got on my wings, hoping to find Mother at her quarters. But she wasn’t there, only some of her maids, and I couldn’t ask them. They waved me off like I was some sparrow from the yard. I headed to look elsewhere. I flew to the pink salon and the library salon, from one place to another, but couldn’t find Mother, and it crossed my mind she could have gone to the town or anywhere, in any case. Then I simply turned and flew right down to the stables. People were working there already.
When I spotted a familiar figure in his stable hand’s clothes, back turned, shoveling dung, I almost jumped from joy—Rupert! And Windmane, too.
I chirped—he paid no attention— and then I landed on Windmane’s back, and Rupert turned to me with a small smile. He looked tired and a little worn. A little older. But it had been a year, hadn’t it?
“Hello, little bird,” he said, and I wondered if he’d spot the magic.
I hopped along Windmane’s back closer to Rupert. I’d thought, when I’d get here, I’d figure something out, I’d write things down, I’d think of something. But how could I make him understand? Windmane took a few steps in place, and I steadied myself, pointing my beak up in the air. Rupert gave a laugh.
“What a cute picture you make! You guys are like a little circus act! My, what a talented pair! What’s up, little bird? Are you hungry? You can peck at the seeds, there’s some all over, for the chickens…but I’m sure you’ve noticed that already. What a funny little pair you are,” Rupert chatted on. He picked up a brush and began brushing Windmane.
“Oh, but, Windmane’s a fantastic friend for you, birdie. You have great taste in friends. He’s the kindest horse, this old geezer. He used to belong to a dear friend of mine, a girl who’s gone, now…I can tell you, little bird because you won’t talk, but she was snatched up by a witch, can you believe that? But people tell me to not think about it. Stop talking about her so much, Rupert, what use is it talking about it, shut up already...She was my best friend, though. And my fiancee’s good friend too. Why should we forget her? No sense in forgetting your friends, is there? No. But you little birds, you don’t have a home and friends like us people, you’re free to fly and be free. Don’t let me get you down.”
I had to take him to the rose and show him. There was so much magic on it, Rupert couldn’t miss it.
I fluttered in the air and yanked his sleeve. Then I pulled him along by
the sleeve, but he laughed and freed himself. So, I bit on a good bunch of sleeve fabric and pulled again, more determined, and he got that I was pulling him somewhere, and being the smart and sensitive guy he was, he followed with a questioning face.
“What? What are you doing? Where do you want me to go? Do you have birdling babies in trouble? Or is there a kitten in the well? What is it, birdie?”
Then he set down the brush and followed me, as I flew in little circles—he was so slow, I had to go round and round, as I couldn’t possibly fly so slowly just by going straight—but he followed.
I took him to the rose under the door, and he immediately knelt down to try to pull it free. I knew how strong he was, but he couldn’t pull it out, either.
“Wow, so this is what you wanted to show me. I wonder what happened here? You know what? I think there’s magic on this rose. Look at this. These faintest of faint sparkles…This is magic, right here…Awesome.”
He stood up and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t yield. So, he pressed with his whole weight and kicked at the door, but it didn’t work. I urged him on, bobbing my head towards the door. I was sure he could have unhinged the whole door if he wanted to. He just needed to find the guts, right? I chirped and bobbed, and he glanced at me, took one step back, and kicked the door in.
For a mere fraction of a second, everything glowed gold and white like on a brilliant summer day, but before a full thought could run its course, that light was snuffed out, and what awaited for us behind the door was a perfectly ordinary room with loungers and little tables.
Rupert must have not even registered the gold room that had flashed for us for only a moment, because his face showed no surprise. He gripped the rose in his hands and began to close the door.
Kingdom of Crowns and Glory Page 49