Linnet and the Prince

by Alydia Rackham

  But I never did.

  I unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing my eyes as the sound of the waterfall on the fountain rushed over me. I opened my eyes, and almost smiled as they were dazzled by the sun. Warmth met my skin.

  Shattered sunlight glanced off the tumbling water as it surrounded and swept around the lady statue. I drew closer, eased myself down onto the edge of the fountain and drew my knees up to my chest. Right here in this spot, almost a full shaft of sunlight spread over me, and the spray of the water touched my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back.

  “I hear the lament of the water

  As I walk alone beside him,” I whispered.

  “The fairies laugh at my tears

  But the river, yes—the river understands me.”

  I fell silent. The back of my neck tingled.

  My fighting instincts flared to life, but I did not move for a few seconds. Then, slowly, I lowered my head, turned my face toward the door and opened my eyes.

  Rajak stood just outside—he wore deep purple for a change, and I could see his bright eyes by the light of the sun. He was scowling at me.

  “What are you doing in here?” he asked. His low voice echoed. I raised my eyebrows.

  “What—am I in someone’s way?”

  He stepped inside, his expression darkening. His boots tapped the stone. He glanced around the room, then back at me.

  “I ordered this chamber locked.”

  I closed my eyes again and tilted my head back.

  “Then you should not have given me the key.”

  He did not answer. I lifted an eyebrow.

  “What? Do I need to leave so you can make room for a hundred concubines?”

  He was silent a moment. I heard him step closer.

  “Has Ayah spoken to you?”

  “No one speaks to me,” I said. “Ever.”

  I could feel his mood quiet.

  “You are too much alone,” he decided.

  I opened my eyes and looked right at him. He blinked.

  “You are too much alone,” I bit back at him. I stood up, my skirt tumbling around my ankles. My hands closed to fists, and I took one step toward him. He watched me, but did not back up.

  “Tell me how to remedy that, prince,” I snapped. “When the only people who come near me are slaves who bring my food and leave, light my lamps and leave, and make my bed and leave.” I tried to stop myself right there. But the moment I paused to take a breath, everything within me boiled over. “You know nothing, do you?” I cried. “Have you even tried to learn? In Hilrigard, my family is with me every day. I pick berries and flowers with my sister. I design gowns with my mother. I fish with my friends and hike in the hills and we hunt deer together. The entire household shares every meal, and we tell stories about the ancient kings and the elves who lived in the mountains…” My vision blurred, and I furiously blinked away my tears as my voice trembled. “Sometimes, when it was cold at night, and the wind made such a sad sound that I felt completely alone, I would go into my sister’s room and climb into bed with her, and we would keep each other warm. But here?” I shook my head and gestured helplessly. “Here, I walk alone, I eat alone, I sleep alone, I am always alone. And there is nothing to do. Nothing to read, no animals to watch, nothing to plant or hunt or fish or sew or weave or write or see.” I swiped at my eyes, trying to clear them. “I know I am nothing to you—I don’t expect to be.” My jaw clenched and my voice shook. “But you call me your wife, and yet I’ve seen men give their dogs more kindness than you have given me.”

  I stormed past him, heading for the door.

  “You did not answer my question,” he said. I stopped, but did not turn around.

  “Why are you in here?” he asked.

  Silence fell. I stepped once, halfway facing him, though not meeting his eyes. And the fire rushed out of me, leaving me cold. I took a deep, quivering breath.

  “Because I wanted to hear the water,” I whispered. “Because I wanted to see it in the sunlight. Because I keep telling myself that if I listen hard enough, I can hear the wind in the trees.” I swallowed. “But you wouldn’t understand that.” I met his gaze. And the look in his eyes was stark, stunned, as if he had never seen me. As if he was staring at a ghost.

  I did not pause to let him speak again. I spun around and strode out of that harem, swearing I would never go back.

  LLL

  It was morning again. The day had begun the same way it always did: I ate the bread, cheese and water next to my bed, chewed the leaf beneath the food, dressed in another of my gowns, brushed my hair, and left my chamber.

  I had avoided the harem for several days. I did not like the idea of Rajak stalking around the dark corridors that led to it. But the sunshine I had found there, and the tumbling waters, along with its privacy, called to me. Even with the fear of encountering Rajak, I knew I would go back soon.

  I wandered all the way down to the stables today, passing the slaves who aired out the lower levels, and evading a flock of women and children as they bustled past.

  But when I arrived at the stables and edged inside, I saw that the soldiers were in there, noisily putting tack on their horses and shouting to each other, and so my mission failed again. I traipsed back down and around, resigning myself to the fact that today, my destination would be the harem at last.

  I passed the torches—there were ninety-three between the stables and the harem—but when I got to the ninetieth, I halted.

  The door was far too close. And it looked wrong.

  My heartbeat accelerated. I broke into a run. I was already shouting out in rage before my fists slammed against a new wooden wall.

  “No, no!” I roared, hammering against it. But it was solidly made, and did not rattle. I clawed at the minute spaces between the boards. Nothing moved.

  I stepped back, set my stance and released a thundering side heel kick that had broken oak boards at home. The wooden wall shuddered, but did not give way. I kicked it again and again. I might as well have been beating on stone.

  Rajak had taken the harem fountain from me.

  Finally, sweating and faint with rage, I turned on my heel and stormed back to my room. I slammed the door behind me, picked up the platter of meat and bread that was meant for my lunch and flung it across the room. It bashed against my wardrobe, slicing a gash in the dark wood. The food splattered everywhere. I grabbed my pillow and wrenched it with all my strength, ripping the fabric and sending white down feathers spilling all over my dress and onto the floor. I threw open the doors of the wardrobe, grasped the bottles of oils and smashed them on the floor.

  At last, I stood there, fevered and breathing hard, then sank down and leaned back against the leg of my bed. After that, I did not move.

  LLL

  The door creaked open sometime in the mid afternoon. I heard Ayah’s whisper.

  “Yeesh! What did you do?”

  I did not answer. I just stared at the oils oozing across the floor. Ayah cleared her throat.

  “The prince asked me to show you something, madam.”

  I frowned.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I do not know, madam,” she said. “But he requests I show it to you now.”

  I did not get up. I heard her shuffle anxiously.

  “Please, madam. I do not wish to make him angry.”

  I sighed. I did not want him to be angry with Ayah, either. I gathered myself and got to my feet. She met my eyes a moment, then turned and left the room. I followed, and we turned left.

  What could he want now? I rolled my eyes. Perhaps I was to begin protocol lessons. Maybe he was going to force me into Badi clothes. Whatever it was, I was in the mood to vex him so badly that he had trouble sleeping…

  My thoughts trailed off, and my footsteps slowed. The wooden wall was gone. And so were the old harem doors.

  Instead, there stood an elaborate black iron gate. And on the gate was the golden figure of a young lady holding
a small bird in her hand—a linnet. It was a linnet. And through the gate…

  “Go, madam,” Ayah said, standing aside and motioning.

  I almost could not move. But my feet carried me forward of their own accord, until I reached the gate. I lifted a hand and pushed on the cool metal. It swung open on new, silent hinges—and I stepped into paradise.

  Sunlight spilled into this chamber from every angle—dozens of new holes in the ceiling, ornately crafted to resemble stars, the sun and moon, created dappled shadows on the floor.

  Which was not a floor anymore.

  It was earth. Black earth, planted with bushes and short trees bursting with blooms of every color. My feet stepped on a little stone path that wound through the garden. I walked slowly, disbelieving what I saw. Exotic, lovely scents wafted over me. Birdsong reached my ears.

  I stopped at a bend in the path, my eyes wide, to catch sight of two little sparrows twittering in the branches of a small tree. I wandered on. Sunlight ran its finger across me, warming me down to my bones.

  The partitions and walls had been knocked down, opening the room up into a huge space. The rush and gurgle of water surrounded me, but I could not see it for the ferns and shrubs. At last, I raised my eyes to a sight that I recognized.

  It was the statue of the lady washing her headdress, with the waterfall spilling down on top of her. I drew near, leaving the path and stepping onto the moist earth. The statue and pool had been cleaned, and shone brilliant white. I sat on the edge and looked down into the water. I had not noticed before, because sand had covered it, but the bottom of the pool was a fantastic blue and red mosaic pattern of flowers. And on this side of the circular pool, bobbing with only its neck above the surface, floated a beautiful green bottle shaped like the pointed tower of a castle, with a cork in the top. I frowned at it, reached over and pulled it out of the water. The cool liquid ran down the slick bottle and over my hand, and created music as the drops hit the surface of the pool. I pulled the cork loose with a plunk, and looked inside.

  Just within a fingertip’s reach sat a rolled up piece of parchment. My brow still furrowed, I reached in and pulled it out.

  I set the bottle down with care, unrolled the paper and held it up to the light. The writing upon it was in black ink, with strong, neat penmanship. But as I read, all the breath left my frame.

  The fairies laugh at my tears,

  But the river, yes—the river understands me.

  I swallowed hard. Rajak had done this. Rajak had made this place for me. But why? Why on earth would he have obliterated his harem for the sake of one woman, one whom he had married for “convenience”? And what about those concubines he had spoken of? Where would they live now that he had knocked down all the walls and taken out the bedchambers?

  What had I said that had made him look at me like that?

  My thoughts stopped. I felt eyes upon me. I jerked my head up, and searched the edges of the garden. But I saw no one. The fountain seemed to chuckle at me, as if she knew something I did not. And when I turned my eyes to the statue, I saw a smile on her face that I had not seen there before.

  LLL

  I wrung out my hair, tossed it back from my face, then stepped forward and doused myself again in the tumbling, warm waterfall in the bathing room adjoining my chambers. I grinned to myself as I scrubbed more oil into my hair.

  I had spent all day in that garden, sitting in the sun, exploring every path, listening to the birds and laughing as they twittered and flitted from branch to branch. I had discovered several small, meandering streams, and waded in them. And once I knew the layout of the paths, I had hiked up my skirts and ran where they led as fast as I could. It felt good to feel my heart pounding, to breathe hard and to sweat. My hair flew out behind me with my skirt, and my speed almost made it feel like there was wind. It was warm in there, and I often stopped to splash water on my face and neck.

  And now, at the end of the day, I actually felt like bathing. Ayah had cleaned my room in my absence, and given me new bathing oils. I now used them on my skin and hair.

  After drenching myself over and over, then drying and rubbing my skin with the oils that smelled the best, I returned to my room, got in my sleeping clothes and ate every crumb on my plate.

  While chewing a leaf and humming to myself, I brushed out my hair and braided it tight, then, after spitting out the leaf, I climbed into bed. I laid my head down on a new pillow and almost instantly fell asleep, though the mysterious dark writing ran through my mind one last time.

  But the river, yes—the river understands me.

  LLL

  I kicked, splashing water straight in the air and watching it fall like diamonds in the sunlight. I arced my eyebrow at the statue, whom I had named Ethalis, after the water sprite in a story my mother had told me.

  “What?” I said, cocking my head at her. “It isn’t as if I am bothering you—you get drenched all the time.”

  “Beautiful fountain, isn’t it?”

  I whirled around, planting my wet feet on the dirt and bracing my hands on the edge of the fountain. Rajak, wearing black once more, stood beneath one of the short trees, holding on to one branch. My face flamed.

  “How long have you been there?” I demanded.

  “I just came,” he said, glancing back. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

  I waited, wishing I could hide my blush. He let go of the branch and stepped toward me, then stopped a few paces away.

  “Are you happier here?”

  I looked at him sideways.

  “Where?”

  He looked around, then back at me.

  “In the garden.”

  I swallowed. I did not want to admit it—I did not want to say anything to him. But I lowered my head and nodded.

  “Good,” he said. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. “Good. Because I…Good.”

  I looked up at him, watching him. He was gazing off, somewhere to his left at the border of the garden, his eyes distant. My brow furrowed. Something was different about him today. His shoulders seemed burdened, and his manner carried heaviness, quiet. As if he was sad.

  “Do you know anything of horses?” he suddenly asked.

  I blinked and my eyebrows went up. He turned back to me.

  “Horses?” I returned. “Yes. I…Well, my family travels by horse.”

  “Did you take care of your own?” he pressed. I looked at him sideways.

  “Don’t you?”

  “No.” He said it as if it was amusing, shook his head and gazed off again. “Which puts me at a disadvantage this morning. My horse is lame and my ferrier ate something last night that he should not have.” He met my eyes. “Would you come look at my horse?”

  I stared at him a long moment. Was he in earnest? He could not be. No Badi would think a woman was capable of that kind of work.

  Then again, even if he was not actually counting upon me to fix his lame horse—he was inviting me to the stables, the one place I had been trying to get into for almost a month.

  “Yes,” I said suddenly. “Yes, I will look.”

  “Good,” he nodded, turned and headed toward the door. I got up and trailed after, thankful that my bare feet were calloused enough to keep up.

  We swept out of the garden, through the gate and into the coolness of the corridor. The flames of the torches flickered as we passed. Rajak stayed several paces in front of me.

  We passed my room, and then one of the chambers where the ventilation slaves worked. Rajak did not look back. Irritated, I spoke up.

  “I know the way.”

  He kept walking.

  “What?”

  “I know the way,” I repeated. “You don’t have to lead.”

  He stopped and turned to me. He frowned.

  “Do not the men lead the women in the Highlands?”

  I lifted an eyebrow again—this expression of disbelief was becoming a habit for me.

  “Not if she knows where they a
re going.”

  His frown turned to a look of puzzlement.

  “Then where does she walk?”

  “Beside him,” I answered.

  He considered this for a long while, studying me. Then, he took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Very well.” He motioned. “Come walk beside me, then.”

  I stayed where I was for a moment, then took two steps and stopped by his right shoulder. Again, he examined me, as if running this idea over in his mind. Then, he faced forward and kept going. I matched his stride.

  He glanced over at me periodically as we walked, deep thought marking his brow. But he was distracted when an entire party of courtly men turned a corner and came right at us.

  They threw themselves back against the walls and bowed low, crying out: “Maharaj!” as we passed. Rajak did not look at them. But I caught many of them sneaking glances at me.

  We traipsed upward, and finally came to the familiar door of the stables where I had skulked so often. Rajak reached out a jewel-covered hand, pulled the door open and strode right in. After hesitating on the threshold, I followed.

  I smiled at the scent, and at the sound of snuffling and nickering and pawing hooves. Rajak led me right down the center aisle of white stalls. Many of the black horses stuck their heads over the gates and perked up their ears at me.

  “This is mine,” Rajak declared, coming to the large stall at the end. “His name is Al-Hawa.” He unlatched the gate and swung it open, and entered. He glanced back at me and held up a hand.

  “Be slow as you come in. He does not know you.”

  I stepped inside, feeling hay beneath my toes. I winced. If this horse decided to do anything sudden, he could crush my foot.

  But I forgot that as soon as I saw him.

  Al-Hawa was shorter than the Highland horses I had known—I thought I could easily mount him. He was jet black, like Rajak’s hair, and his mane and tail looked silken. His coat gleamed, and his hooves were polished as a valuable stone. He took in a deep breath of me, then snorted. I smiled.