His eyebrows shot up, surprised. “That’s a difficult song to sing. You’re certain of your choice?”
I gulped, but nodded.
“It has words, too?” Lady Oria exclaimed, excited. “Oh, I must hear them. Such a heartbreaking melody.”
Fully aware I was possibly digging my own grave, I nodded again. Prince Aaron let out a resigned exhale, but gave no further protest. As he strummed the opening chord, I shut my eyes, remembering the morning with my mother in the barn, calling up the words in my memory.
With a deep breath, I began. The story of two brothers growing up by the banks of a river and the girl who caught their fancy unfolded before me. Her hair the color of sunshine, her laughter like music, the touch of her hand as a warm summer breeze… I described all of these, losing myself in the winding melody. Returning from war, the brothers found her again, but time away had made their hearts grow fonder for her and their patience with each other shorter. They soon came to blows over her hand in marriage, but she loved only the younger of the two. As they argued in their home, she went in hopes of stopping them, of reminding them of their love for one another, yet their violence would not be halted. A candle toppled, fire engulfed the house, and the brothers fought on in the yard. A scream ripped through the night, and the younger brother, distracted by the sound, was run through by the eldest’s sword. The eldest ran to the house, forgoing his dying brother, to save the girl from the flames. When she saw what had been done, she sobbed and beat against him, running to the other when she was free. He died in her arms as she wailed, inconsolable by any means. Before the eldest could stop her, she flung herself into the lake, overcome by grief and loss, drowning herself and joining the younger brother in death. Having lost everything he cared about, the elder brother lived out his days in lonely solitude, his heart finally giving out in his sleep one night. Yet his guilt and pain remained, his ghost wandering the banks of the lake, still calling out for the two people he loved more than anything else in the world.
When I finished the song, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. No echoes of the lute rang in the air as they should, but a single look at Prince Aaron showed me why. The instrument laid at his feet, put there as I sang. He held his face in his hands, silent sobs shaking his shoulders, accompanied by the occasional shuddering sniffle. Amazed at this, I looked to Lady Oria. The front of her dress was entirely soaked, the tears still streaming down her cheeks in great rivulets. What happened? Was my performance so terrible that it merited silence and sorrow?
Thinking quickly, I thought perhaps a simpler tune would appease them. I snatched up the lute, remembering the few lessons my mother gave me before my father sold the instrument, and jumped into a song about a clever rabbit outwitting a fox. Laughter erupted from my audience, and I cringed. They doubled over, guffawing as I sang through the final verse, and I was sure all was lost. Not only had I reduced them to tears over my terrible performance, but they laughed that I dared to continue. Mortified, I finished the song and leaned the lute up against the side of my chair, staring at my hands in heated embarrassment for my display. I almost wished the giantess would fling me into the sky at that moment. At least then I wouldn’t feel so thoroughly ridiculous ever again.
Prince Aaron was the first to recover his breath while Lady Oria sucked in huge gasps or air trying to stifle her giggles. “How…” he began, pausing for another inhale. “How are you doing that? Are you a witch?”
I blinked at him, dumbfounded by the question. “A witch, Sire?”
He reached over and took my hands, his eyes gleaming with tears of both sadness and merriment. My face burned crimson at his demeanor, completely unsure of what he was playing at. “Your talent astounds me, Jack. How is it you enchant me so thoroughly?”
My head spun and my mouth worked at words. “I… What?”
“You must stay with us!” Lady Oria exclaimed. “To hear such music all the time… I’d be the envy of all the world!”
“You’ve been truly blessed, Jack,” the prince continued. “I was given my gift with the lute upon my naming day by my godmother, but you… I’ve not heard such music in all my days as what you’ve gifted us with. To stir such emotion with the simplest of songs, and have such mastery of a ballad as the first, have you trained your entire life?”
Beyond disbelief, all I could do was stare, vaguely aware that he still held my hands. “Trained? I’ve never… You mean you didn’t hate it?”
“Hate it?” The giantess gasped. “Not since I heard Aaron’s playing have I been so moved by song. Do you not perform for the king’s court?”
At that, I burst out in loud laughter. “Perform for the king? No, My Lady. For our cows before they were taken from me, but never human ears. Surely I’m not so special as all that.”
“Cows?” the prince said, at last releasing my hands and sitting back. “Where is it you come from, Jack?”
I looked from one to the other, uncertain of their actual interest in my story, but they seemed very keen to hear it. Hesitant, I began, telling them of my father, taking the cows to market, and my subsequent journey upon discovering what the man intended for me when I returned. Their expressions shifted from sadness, to horror, to speechlessly enthralled as I recounted it, though I couldn’t for the life of me imagine what held them so raptly attentive.
When I finished, they slumped back in their chairs simultaneously.
The prince shook his head in disbelief. “You astound me again. Do you really not know what you are?”
I chuckled. “What I am, Highness? I’m only a girl. What else is there?”
“I think you’re correct, Aaron,” the giantess said. “I’ve only met one once before, but she’s like him sure as I’m breathing.”
Prince Aaron looked at me, his green eyes sparkling. “You’re a Bard, Jack. And not of the average sort, like a minstrel. You’ve been blessed from birth with innate abilities in music and storytelling. It’s very rare, but I’ve seen them a handful of times. And you say your father had none of these talents?”
“I… No, Sire,” I said, hardly believing his words. “Not as he ever showed me.”
He frowned. “It’s typically inherited from a parent, often accompanied by a burning need for travel. Your mother then, what of her?”
Like a bucketful of icy winter water dousing me, his question made me sit up straight, instantly attentive. “My mother?”
He nodded. “Did you not know her?”
“She left when I was nine, Highness,” I replied, my mouth dry. “I’ve not seen her since, though she begged me to come away with her then.”
“Do you remember if she sang or told stories?”
I nodded. “She did, but I’d never thought it unusual.”
“Do you know where she went?”
Shaking my head, I sighed. “No, but I’ve missed her greatly. I never blamed her for leaving, as it was always my choice to stay.”
He leaned forward on his knees, grinning at me. “If you intend to travel further, I daresay you’ll find her again. Bards are highly prized, and courted for performances by every royal house in the world. Once a Bard begins putting on shows, I’ve heard they find it impossible to stop. It’s amazing your mother stayed in one place as long as she did, if she was half as gifted as you.”
My mother, a Bard? As in, we were both of a magical bent? The idea seemed ridiculous, yet, knowing what I did about my mother, it felt unquestionably true. Her lullabies and stories when I was a child consistently put me to sleep without fail, and her songs during my wakeful hours kept me in high spirits as we worked the land. I’d always known of her talents, but I’d never heard about Bards such as he spoke of.
I yawned, suddenly overcome by crushing fatigue. “Pardon me,” I said, covering my mouth. “It’s been a very long day.”
“Oh, you must be exhausted, poor thing,” Lady Oria said as she jumped to her feet. The movement rocked the table, and with it, my chair, doing nothing for my exhaustion. “Let
me fetch another trundle for you to sleep in.” She bounded out of the room, hefting her skirts to keep from tripping over them in her haste.
“There’s no need for so much trouble on my account,” I said as I yawned again. My head felt fuzzy, so I leaned it back against the chair, my eyes already drooping closed.
“There now,” Prince Aaron said, his voice kind, soothing me further. “Rest yourself. The magic is draining, and you need to sleep. Don’t worry over a thing.”
I made to say something to him, but my words jumbled on my tongue and I couldn’t manage it. I was fast asleep before Lady Oria could return.
Chapter 6
The smell of fresh bread stirred me from slumber, but I was so warm and comfortable, I had little desire to open my eyes. My stomach, however, had other ideas, and let out a loud groan of displeasure at my loafing about in bed.
I frowned and sat up. In bed? I had no memory of moving from the chair, yet there I was on the plushest mattress I’d ever lain upon, covered in light blankets softer than rabbit fur. My boots sat to the side of the bed, clean and polished, though I hadn’t removed those either.
“Good morning,” Prince Aaron said, smiling at me over a tea cup. “Sleep well?”
I rubbed my eyes and tried to get my bearings. “I… Yes, I think so. What happened? What time is it?”
A clock on the far side of the study let out a single chime. “A quarter after nine. You must’ve been very tired after your ordeal. Not that I blame you, of course,” he said. “Hungry?”
My stomach gurgled again. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
He waved it off. “Don’t be silly. Oria just came with bread, cheese, and fruit, and there’s plenty for us both. Tea?”
I slung my legs over the side of the bed, wincing a little at the cold contact with the metal floor, and stood, stretching. “Please. Thank you, Highness.”
“No thanks needed,” he said as I crossed to the table. “Sugar?”
“One lump, thank you, Sire,” I said sitting down across from him.
He poured the steaming brew over the sugar in my cup. “You needn’t bother with the formalities. Aaron will do fine.”
I blanched. “I don’t think I should—”
“I insist,” he said, interrupting me. “I’m not at court, and I’ve no intention of being so again. It’s nearly two years since I’ve been addressed by title, and, to be honest, I don’t miss it. So, if you’d indulge me, I’d appreciate it.”
“If it’s not prying,” I stared into my teacup, wondering how he came by hot water when there was no fire, “why is it that you’re here? I doubt we left our respective homes for the same reasons, so what made you leave?”
As he leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifted over my head, staring at something on the far wall as he spoke. “I left because I’m selfish, and I realized that the people of Litania deserved far better than that. While I’ve never been given to bouts of modesty where my strengths are concerned, I’m not beyond admitting where I fail. The truth of it is, I simply didn’t want to be king. As the eldest of three sons, my father wouldn’t hear of that, naturally. My middle brother, Gustave, has always had the better temperament for ruling. He greatly enjoys his time with the army, and has the patience of a saint when it comes to matters of state. I’d much rather sit and play music all day. My father has cursed my godmother’s gift to me on many, many occasions.”
Brows knitted, trying to comprehend his reasons, I watched him take a nonchalant sip of tea. “So why not just give it up? Couldn’t you…” I paused, unsure if there was a word for such a thing.
“Abdicate?” he said with a chuckle. “It wasn’t that simple. My father refused me when I requested as much, instead informing me that he’d arranged for me to marry some duke’s daughter to secure their loyalty and considerably boost the royal coffers. If the girl had any sense in her head, or was even moderately attractive, I might’ve made do, but not only was she stupid and cruel, she was too wide for any chairs in the palace and couldn’t stand music of any sort. Really, there’s likely been a poorer match in all of recorded history.”
While I didn’t blame him, I didn’t know that I’d have left only for that. However, it was abundantly clear to me how different my own personality was than that of Prince Aaron’s. “But how did you end up here? The same way I did?”
He laughed. “Hardly. I doubt there are many who’d go to the lengths you did. No, I was sent as an emissary to the giants in the eastern regions of Litania. It was on that trip that the Lady Oria heard me play. We…” His words trailed off, his face coloring. “Well, let’s say that my father would never approve of such a relationship.” Adjusting himself in his seat, he focused on me again. “And so we decided to come here. Her parents passed some time ago, leaving her the lands and castle. None ever come here. It’s a lovely arrangement. I play to my heart’s content, which pleases Oria greatly, and my brother becomes king, as he should be.”
Staring at him, it was hard for me to fully appreciate how utterly, undeniably selfish the whole matter was. I was all for fostering love, but walking away from obligation to an entire kingdom? It was beyond horrifying to me. “And the war?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t there to see it myself, but I suspect he thinks the giants took me prisoner for some reason.”
“What will you do now that you know?”
He popped a piece of cheese into his mouth. “Nothing, I suppose. What can I do? My father started the war, he can end it easily enough.”
My mouth hung open, completely stunned. “Nothing? People have died, are still dying, and plenty more suffer when all you have to do is return and explain it to him.”
At first he looked at me as though I’d spoken a foreign language, but then he shrugged. “Maybe, but likely as not I’d simply end up a miserable wretch the rest of my life. What good would that do anyone? I told you I was selfish and ill-suited to rule. Why are you surprised?”
I pushed back from the table, feeling queasy. “Do you care for no one at all? Why would you allow a war to continue if you could stop it?”
“I don’t know that I can,” he said with a sigh. “My father has far too much pride to ever admit to making a mistake. He’d likely as not continue fighting simply to prove a point.”
“But you won’t even try?”
“I’ve no interest in futile pursuits,” he said, waving off the suggestion.
The door to the study opened with a bang, and the Lady Oria flounced in, sitting in the overstuffed armchair with a great thud. “Good morning, little Bard. Feeling better?”
My frown persisted, though I tried not to look too cross. “Yes, My Lady. Thank you.”
“Is something the matter?” She leaned down and squinted at my face.
“She’s displeased with me,” Prince Aaron said, sipping his tea.
“Displeased?” Oria said as she sat up straighter. “Whatever for?”
He shrugged. “It’s more disappointment that I’ve given up my princely duties, I think.”
“What, about the war?”
He nodded.
She waved it off. “Well, that’s just silly. What could you do?”
“Precisely what I said.”
I stared at them, shifting back and forth from prince to giantess, completely baffled by their apathy. “Do neither of you care in the least? About anything?”
“I care about a great deal of things,” Oria said with a sniff, crossing her arms. “That’s a cruel thing to say.”
“It’s crueler that you sit here, tucked away in a castle while others die for no reason,” I said. “It’s much crueler that you ignore it when others suffer for your selfish acts.” Though I knew I should mind my tongue, as a giant could easily silence me with little effort, I was so appalled that neither of them cared, I couldn’t stop myself from speaking.
“Selfish?” She gaped at me. “How am I selfish? What could I do about this silly war? It’s not my concern.”
Standin
g, I paced the floor of the cage. There had to be a way to make them see the truth in it. “It’s your concern because it’s your fault, the two of you.” I stopped and looked at Aaron. “Is it worse to take up your birthright and possibly be a less than stellar king, or to run from it and have your father certainly destroy everyone and everything because of it?”
“There’s no possibly to it, Jack.” He scowled at me. “I’d be a terrible king.”
“How would you know?” I asked. “You’ve not even tried. I do things all the time that I don’t want to, most people do. I wouldn’t have known I had a talent for it if you hadn’t made me sing last night. No one knows what they can do until they try, Highness. That’s rather the point of trying and working at a thing.”
“But why try to be king when others are better suited for it?” Oria asked.
I planted a hand on a hip and grimaced. “I’ve not much talent for baking, but without money to buy it elsewhere I had to learn how to make bread. It isn’t always about what we want, it’s about what needs to be done. The challenge is in finding a way to love the things we must do. For example, I took great pleasure in my visits to the mill for flour. If I needed to make bread, it meant I could visit with the miller’s wife, and she always had a spare sweet for me when I would. The rest I might not care for so much, but small things like that made the work worth it.”
With a tired sigh, I sat back down in my chair. “It’s up to us to find happiness within our lives without causing suffering to others. How can you be happy knowing your actions have caused so much pain?”
“To be fair,” Aaron said, “I didn’t know I had until yesterday.”
“All the more reason you should be keen to help now,” I said. “Even if you won’t return, isn’t there something you could try to do? Your father might listen if he knows you won’t be coming home. He might not stop the war at once, but he might step back a little.”
“Spoken as someone who’s never met my father,” he said, then quietly finished his cup of tea. “No, I don’t believe his pride would allow him to do much more than become even angrier.”
The Stillness of the Sky: A Flipped Fairy Tale (Flipped Fairy Tales) Page 6
