The Kingdom of Back(37)
I am composing my own music. It is mine, from my hand alone. I wrote it for myself and I wanted to share it with you. Do you see me?
Papa must have heard me take my breath. He lifted his head from his hands and looked around as if in a momentary daze, then settled on me. For a moment, his eyes softened, as if in guilt or sorrow. He looked like he wanted to say something to me. I waited, my heart pounding, my entire body tilted in anticipation toward him.
Then my father’s gaze retreated behind a wall. My courage wavered. I held back the words from the tip of my tongue.
“Have you stood there long?” he said.
I shook my head quietly.
He looked away from me and rubbed a hand across his face. “For heaven’s sake, child, go to bed. It is not polite to stand in doorways, spying on others.”
The moment passed as quickly as it came upon me. I could no longer remember what I wanted to say. What was I thinking? Seconds earlier I had nearly spilled open my secrets to him—now, it seemed absurd to mention such an idea to my father. He would have torn my music in half, tossed the ruined sheets into the fire. The thought made me pale.
I murmured an apology, stepped away from him, then turned toward the bedroom. Silver light sliced the floor into lines. When I moved past the windows, I thought I could glimpse the twin moons of the Kingdom of Back hovering in the sky, moving slowly and steadily closer to each other. Exhaustion suddenly weighed against my chest, and I wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. In the morning, I would forget this moment. So would he.
Someone was waiting for me right behind my bedroom door. He was so quiet that I startled in the dark.
It was Hyacinth.
He had grown a little taller since the last time I saw him, and his face was more beautiful than ever. He had heard me calling for him through my music, however unconsciously I had done it. I stared at him, caught between fright and joy.
Whatever expression he saw on my face, it made him shake his head in sympathy. “You’ve performed well on your own,” he said. His fingers brushed against my cheek. “Why are you sad, my Fr?ulein?”
His words were so quiet and gentle, his look so attentive, that I felt an urge to cry. I swallowed, waiting until my eyes dried, and then whispered, “My father is unhappy.” I looked to where my brother lay curled in bed, withered from exhaustion and already asleep. “Woferl has been very ill lately. It has made him withdrawn and quiet.”
Hyacinth’s glowing eyes roamed around the room before they finally settled on the window that overlooked the Getreidegasse, and the lands beyond.
“Perhaps I can do something to help your family,” he said to me, taking my hand in his. “It is time for your next task. Are you ready?”
I thought of my father with his head bowed in his hands, the dark circles under my brother’s eyes. I thought of my mother, wringing her hands. I looked down at his smooth, elegant fingers wrapped around mine, his presence here with me when others were not.
“Yes,” I replied.
THE OGRE AND THE SWORD
The air was cool and alive tonight in the Kingdom of Back, as if all this land had taken in a deep breath, stirring, at the return of their princeling. The west wind caressed us, delighted by Hyacinth’s presence, and Hyacinth smiled at its touch, tilting his face up so that the wind could kiss his lips. As I followed him through the trees, I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, shivering beneath my lace and velvet. My dress dragged along the ground, picking up bits of dirt and grass.
Hyacinth! Hyacinth! the faeries called as we went, dancing excited circles of blue light around their princeling. He’s here! They drew close to him, kissing his cheeks and skin affectionately, but he waved them off, his breath fogging in the midnight air.
“Away tonight, loves,” he cried, gripping my hand. “I have my Fr?ulein with me.” I couldn’t help but smile, secretly pleased by his singular attention.
The faeries hissed their disapproval at me, scattering as Hyacinth waved his hand at them and then coming back together to tug sharply at my hair. I scowled, batting them away. “You must be firm with them,” he said to me, the glow of his eyes reflecting against his shoulder. “It is hard for faeries to understand subtlety.”
We paused in the middle of a clearing in the forest. Here, I gasped aloud.
The twin moons of the land hovered at either end of the clearing’s sky, where the trees’ roots reached up against the night. The moonlight illuminated the stalks of edelweiss that filled the field, painting them all in a silver-white glow. I’d never seen so many flowers in my life. They carpeted the entire clearing, transforming it into a scene of snow. Overhead, the sheet of stars was so brilliant that they seemed to be raining stardust down upon us.
Hyacinth smiled at my awe. “Look closer. Aren’t they lovely?”
When I peered more closely at the flowers, I realized that their glow did indeed come from a thin layer of glittering white dust that coated them. When the moonbeams cut through the forest around us at just the right slants, I could see it—the shine of dust in the air, floating gently down by the millions, and when I looked down at myself, my arms and dress were sprinkled with starlight.
I smiled and, on impulse, leaned down to touch the shimmering edelweiss growing around me. Each time my fingers brushed their petals, a note sang out, so that running my hand through them sounded like a soft chime of bells. I closed my eyes for a moment to savor the sound.