The Stillness of the Sky (14 page)

“Try not to overtax yourself today,” Mayor Trundell said as I took my seat in a corner of the room. “You’ll need your strength for tonight’s festivities.”

I nodded and sat, refusing to meet Prince Willem’s eyes as they followed my every movement. What sleep I’d gotten after our conversation was filled with more dreams and whispers, the voices louder than before, though as unintelligible as ever. Worried a lack of rest put me in a foul mood, I decided silence was preferable to being grumpy with everyone.

My lute was an excellent distraction from all of it, and I strummed softly through the multitude of melodies I’d been collecting. Some of the tunes I’d heard only once, but they came as easily as ones I’d heard dozens of times. I reasoned it was another gift Bards possessed. A musical memory was incredibly helpful, though I wished, not for the first time, that I had another with my talents to teach me the specifics of my magic. If not for Crilla’s warning about a Bard’s bond, I might’ve gotten myself into severe trouble down the road. I didn’t want to think about what might happen if I made a promise I couldn’t keep.

“You know,” Prince Willem’s voice broke through my concentration, though I continued to play without interruption. “Torell’s music festival is next week. Perhaps our young Lady Bard would consider attending?”

Lady Jacinda clapped her hands together, excited. “Oh, that’s a lovely idea. Think of how much she could learn at that sort of gathering. I’d love to see what comes of her talent after such an undertaking.”

I ignored them, pretending not to hear. If they insisted on talking about me as if I weren’t in the room, I might as well not be.

“I heard from Baron Xavier that several other Bards are traveling that way for the occasion,” Lord DeBauch said. “King Ivor’s sent invitations to every kingdom for the event.”

Prince Willem nodded. “He has. He thinks the influx of visitors will boost the royal coffers and serve as a distraction in these dark times. We may be at war, but people still need lighter things to keep them heartened.”

Fighting back my frown, I continued playing, not about to weigh in on my feelings about the war and what people needed.

“Miss Jacqueline,” Prince Willem said, “if you’d like to attend, you’re welcome to accompany us. We’re headed for the capital tomorrow, and we’d be glad for the company.”

Surprised he addressed me so directly, I looked up before I could stop myself. “I… The offer is noted, Your Highness, thank you.”

His brows drew down on his forehead. “But you’ll not come along?”

Refusing a prince? The me of a month ago would’ve laughed at such a thing. His eyes bore into me, that strange familiarity sending a shiver down my spine. “I might attend the festival, but carriages don’t suit me.”

The mayor laughed. “You’ve no horse, silly girl, do you intend to walk? You’d miss the festival by a week if so.”

I bit down on my tongue to avoid giving a snappy reply and returned to my playing.

“We’d gladly house you at the DeBauch manor,” Lady Jacinda said, insistent. “It’s not as grand as our estate in Dobney, but room enough for all.”

I nodded with a smile. “I appreciate it, but I have friends in Torell that would be upset with me if I didn’t take up their hospitality during a visit.” It wasn’t a lie, as I knew the Minkovs would gladly have me for a guest. I didn’t dislike Lord and Lady DeBauch, but they were too close to Prince Willem for my comfort.

“I do enjoy your playing, and I think my father would be pleased at my finding a Bard within our own people,” the prince said. “Would you refuse an order if I gave it?”

My music stopped with a jarring dissonant chord as I jerked, staring at him. “I’d rather you not give it, Highness. I value my freedom above most anything.”

A devious grin turned up the corners of his mouth. “Then perhaps you’d promise to grace us with an audience during the festival. Even if you choose to travel on your own, we’d all enjoy hearing your music again.”

Blasted cleverness, he’d backed me into a corner. Either I’d be ordered to attend and forced to ride with him, or I’d be made to show under the threat of pain from the Bard’s bond. The longer I knew him, the more I regretted meeting Prince Willem.

“Then you have my promise, Highness,” I said as I tried to rein in my irritation. “I’ll attend the festival in Torell.”

“And you’ll announce yourself at the castle?”

I glared at him. “I think that would be incredibly presumptuous of a young Bard.”

“Nonsense.” He waved it off, more smug than before, knowing he’d won. “I’ll leave word with the palace guard that you’re to be treated as a most-respected guest.” His expression shifted, so intense it stilled the air in my lungs. “You’ll want for nothing, on my word as a member of House Maldavian.”

Great spirits, why did he look at me that way? What about me made him so insistent that I see him again? I had too many things to do to indulge his foolishness.

“You swear you’ll be there, then?”

Swallowing, I nodded, having little choice in the matter. “You have my word as well, Highness.”

The barest tingle of magic danced at the back of my skull, and I sighed. I was beginning to better understand why Crilla lived alone. Other people were an endless source of trouble.

The party wasn’t as terrible as I’d feared. Other musicians from town played the majority of the evening, and I learned a few new songs as a result. For the most part, I sat to the side, quietly sipping spiced cider as I watched the dancers twirl and stomp and glide across the floor of the gathering hall. More than once I had to feign ignorance as Prince Willem attempted to catch my eye. It was exhausting having to be on guard the whole evening, but I managed it without incident.

The townspeople seemed to prefer jigs to reels, though waltzes were peppered amongst the happier tunes. Given the audience, they kept clear of the bawdier songs I’d heard in pubs, so I discarded those from my repertoire for the night as well.

After the main meal was served, and most everyone had finished eating, Mayor Trundell stood from his seat at the head of the room, knocking his cup against the table to be heard over the din of conversation.

“Honored guests, good citizens of Alonin,” he began, “this evening, not only are we blessed with the presence of the Honorable Prince Willem of the House Maldavian and the Lord and Lady DeBauch of Dobney, but a most talented young lady as well. If you would, raise a cup in honor of Bard Jacqueline. Let us hear her play!”

I ignored the sounds of the crowd, staying focused on my job to keep my nerves at bay. I wondered if I’d ever get used to so much attention, and, if not, what I’d do if it got to be too much. Perhaps I’d find my own little cabin in the woods to hide in.

At the moment, however, it was time to work. For the first time since I began playing, I hadn’t been provided a chair, so an awkward silence passed as I stood in the center of the floor, all eyes resting on me. I turned in a slow circle, weighing each face in the crowd that one might stand out as in need of a particular song. I stopped when I came to Prince Willem.

If the man had a mind to trap me, I’d let him see how I’d fare in such a state.

I adjusted my emotions, so as not to overwhelm the audience, but held onto a trickle of what I’d unleashed my last day with Oria and Aaron. The words were still with me, and I sang them again to reaffirm my statement on valuing freedom.

Oh, gentle breeze

Carry my spirit

Send it along with a warm summer day.

Oh, sparkling starlight

Illumine the dark

Show me the path my feet yearn to walk.

Oh, powerful river

Lend me your strength

Let no stone bar me or send me astray.

For the sky is wide

And the road is long

And I’ve years to go before my heart is home.

I sang it but once, my eyes trained on the prince as I did so, directing the brunt of it at him. At the last chord, his face was pale and slack, a sure sign my warning was received. After a brief smile and curtsy, I turned from the head table, ready to bring laughter to the citizens of Alonin.

Without waiting for applause, I lit into a springtime jig. To my surprise, my feet moved as I played, my body swept up in the cadence as other musicians joined in with flutes and drums. I skipped and spun across the floor, allowing the freedom of motion to take my performance to a level of unfettered bliss I’d never known before. Others joined me in my dance, and followed where I led as I played and sang. One song melted into two, three, and four, until at last I strummed the final notes and the crowd erupted into laughter and cheers. Slightly breathless, I began again, a slower tune now, the beautiful strains of a waltz turning me in an easy sway. The dancers disappeared from the floor, leaving me alone to sing of love’s beauty and strength. My steps grew lighter, the words of the ballad guiding me in tiny leaps and turns upon my toes. Heart bursting with the joy of great love, I finished the final chorus, coming to a rest in front of Prince Willem.

His brilliant green eyes held me there for mere seconds, but in that time I couldn’t breathe. Torn between keeping the moment and running from it, the choice was taken from me by the mayor’s standing ovation.

“Marvelous! Well done!” he shouted over the applause. Only Prince Willem was slow to succumb to the cheers that rang from the rafters. His stunned expression softened only a little as he put his hands together in a dazed clap.

I took my bows and returned to my place at the end of the head table. What remained of my strength was spent shaking hands and accepting thanks from the townspeople, but after an hour of that it was difficult to keep my eyes open.

A tap on my shoulder woke me when I drifted off between conversations, and I turned to see Prince Willem offering me his hand. “It’s getting late, good lady Bard, would you allow me to see you back safely?”

“I’m sure the guards can…” My words disappeared in an embarrassing yawn. “There’s no need for you to leave early on my account, Highness.”

His kind smile took me aback. “As you’re only here tonight because of me, I’d be happy to return the favor.”

Looking around, I sighed at seeing even the guards enjoying moments of laughter and reprieve. Asking them to leave to escort me certainly wouldn’t earn me any endearment. Allowing them their small happiness, I relented, setting my hand in his.

We left without any pomp or circumstance, quietly slipping out a rear exit. Without asking, Prince Willem took my arm in his, supporting my weight more than my feet could.

“Tell me true,” he said as we walked down the empty streets, “how long have you been a Bard?”

“Tell you true?” I asked. “I have, Sire. Three weeks if a day or two more. Do you think I’m a liar?”

He shook his head. “Not as such, but after the past two days, I have trouble reconciling what you’ve told me with what I see and hear.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Nor do I.” He chuckled. “I’ve seen Bards before, one as recently as this past spring, and not once was I so captivated as when you played tonight. Either you’re lying to me about how long you’ve been performing, or…”

When he paused, he stopped walking altogether, facing me with the strangest look on his face.

“Or what?” I prompted, slightly insulted he thought me dishonest, but more curious about his answer.

Prince Willem reached out, his soft fingers gently grazing the line of my jaw. “Or you’re the most gifted Bard the world has seen for a dozen generations.”

His touch sent me back a pace, my lips parting in surprise. The prince stepped toward me, and I suddenly knew what his eyes held.

Awe.

“Where did you come from, Jack?” he asked in a low whisper.

In my retreat, my back pressed against a storefront, cutting off my escape. “Nowhere special, Highness. I’ve no stories to tell you.”

“I don’t believe that.” He smiled down at me, tilting my chin up to look at him. “All Bards have stories, and I’d very much like to know yours.”

My heart raced, my breath quickening at his closeness. “I’ve nothing to tell you, Highness. I swear, I don’t know anyth—”

“It’s Will. And I don’t believe you.”

“But I swore—”

“Mmm,” he murmured. “You did. And so you’d tell me if you thought there was something unusual about your childhood?”

When I clamped down on my tongue, a twist of pain tore through my bones. He’d trapped me again with my own careless words. “My mother,” I gasped. “My mother left when I was nine. She was a Bard, but I don’t know anything beyond that.”

Another wave of torment swept over me, and I crumpled forward. The prince caught me as I fell, and I fought back my cry. “She knows about me, but I haven’t found her yet to ask.” I sucked in a ragged breath. “Whatever story I have, it’s only she that knows it and can tell me.”

As a sob worked its way free, he pulled me close into his arms. “Shh,” he whispered into my ear, stroking the hair spilling down my back. “I’m sorry, Jack. Forgive me. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m driven to know these things. I must.”

Crying, I tried to squirm away from him, but my strength was utterly spent. “Why? What have I done?”

There was a long pause before he answered, his fingers weaving into my hair, holding me tightly. “You haunt my dreams, Jack. I thought, if I could learn about you, I might be able to sleep without your voice echoing in my ears at night.”

Time stopped in that moment. His dreams? Was he addled, or was this sorcery? It was certainly not a magic I possessed, though why would anyone do such a thing to him?

“For years now, your songs, your words, they’ve been with me. I thought I was mad until yesterday. Now, it’s possible I might be, but I’m inclined to think there’s greater purpose in all of this, don’t you?”

I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, willing my body to relax. “Please, let me go.”

“Do you promise not to run from me?”

“If anyone sees us like this, Highness, I’d be in more trouble than you would. Let me go.”

“Then you should hurry and promise not to run from me.”