“Mother,” said he to Celesta, “what purpose is this pale ball? It does not give off warmth or provide a place to play. Why would you create it?”
“Because it is a thing of beauty,” said she.
Terrain turned and contemplated the moon, but enlightenment did not come.
—The Book of Celesta
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Understanding
To say that the ensuing days were better was akin to saying that it was a small jump from the Skychild palace down to the ground below. Though Skye was in no way cowed, he was careful to act in a subservient fashion. His last discussion with Tierra had left them both aware of where they stood with each other—he would not cease trying to escape, and she would attempt to prevent him from doing so.
Looking back on the previous days and weeks, Skye knew it was foolish of him to act out of anger. Cirrus had taught him better than that. It was now time to behave with the cunning of a raptor searching for prey rather than with the brute force of a stupid garm. Impatience had brought about his first escape attempt . . . and had therefore doomed it to failure. The next time, he would be assured of success before he made his move.
Now that his mind was clear again, he was aware he should never have shown such overt resistance to the Groundbreathers in the castle. He had wanted to hold his head up high and make it known to all that he, Skye, prince of the sky realm, would not bow down before his captors. But in truth, what did he care what a group of savages thought of him? He did not care. That was why, after he had seen that truth, doing what he was told came more easily to him. He needed to make sure that everyone, including Tierra, paid as little attention to him as possible. If they discovered he was a prince, then his situation would change drastically. But if he could stay out of trouble, then it would not be much longer before he would leave the Groundbreathers behind forever.
In the ensuing weeks, Skye and Tierra began to confide more in one another, though they maintained the mistress/slave pretense in front of the other residents of the castle. Skye also avoided any occasion for physical contact, though Tierra did not seem any more eager than he was to allow a repetition of the intimate manner in which she had touched him while putting the healing salve on his back.
Their conversations ranged among various subjects, with Tierra telling him about her childhood, her life before he had arrived, her struggles with Wisteria, her friendship with River, and her wish to see more of the world. Skye, in return, though he kept his identity as a prince secret, spoke of his sometimes difficult relationship with his father, his few memories of his mother, and his friendship with Cirrus.
Cirrus! At times, Skye worried incessantly about his friend and wondered whether he had been put to death at the Seneschal’s order. Skye wanted to believe that Cirrus had escaped, but the prison in the palace was secure, and the chances of escape were slim. Though Skye would have given almost anything to learn his friend’s fate, he pushed the matter to the back of his mind, as there was nothing he could do about it. The lack of any knowledge bothered Skye more than anything, and his thoughts often slipped back to the subject despite his efforts to concentrate on other matters.
“I’m happy that you’re settling into life here a little more,” Gusty said to Skye on one occasion. Though Gusty was shy and entirely too passive, he was pleasant and intelligent and a good conversationalist, and Skye enjoyed the time they were able to occasionally steal to spend together.
“I didn’t have much choice, now, did I?” Skye returned. He was well aware that Gusty was referring to Skye’s supposed acceptance of his situation, and while Gusty was mistaken, Skye had not, as yet, enlightened him as to the true state of affairs. When Skye was finally ready to make his move, he would include Gusty in his plan to leave. For now, however, the other Skychild would be more of a hindrance than a help.
“I suppose not,” Gusty said. “But it’s still a good thing that you did. I think it was affecting Tierra quite a lot, and she really is the nicest of the royal family. I wouldn’t want her life to be made difficult.”
Skye grunted in agreement. Tierra was truly unfortunate to have such a family. She was a good person—for a Groundbreather—and he was glad he had been assigned to her rather than to Wisteria. His reformed behavior was a small enough sacrifice to make to repay someone who had, after all, treated him more like a human being than anyone else in the castle had.
“Don’t worry about it, Gusty,” Skye said. “I won’t make it any more difficult for her than it already is.”
It was relatively easy to keep that promise. The queen had no more notice for him now that she believed he was behaving the way he should, and since Wisteria had no more reason to pay attention to him as a way to make her sister’s life more difficult, even she gave him no more notice than the dust beneath her feet. Though he was still considered little more than an animal, at least he now felt he was being treated more like a servant than a slave. Perhaps that was what accounted for most of his softening toward Gusty. Could the man have been blamed if he wanted to be content with the lot that life had given him? Gusty lacked the responsibilities that belonged to Skye and had no reason to seek something elsewhere.
Though Skye could not condone Gusty’s acceptance of his servitude, he felt he could finally understand it, especially in light of the other man’s loss of honor. Still, that did not alter Skye’s determination to leave. Nothing could make him wish to stay.
* * *
Tierra was immensely pleased by the changes which had been wrought by Skye’s capitulation. She still felt awful for taking the whip to him, but she was relieved that what she had done had helped to ease the difficult situation for them both in some small measure. Skye was no longer beaten within an inch of his life on an almost daily basis, and Tierra no longer had to worry about being made to marry a repulsive man.
In fact, it had never truly been a possibility, as she found out a few days after the events which had so unsettled her. She had been sitting in the royal apartments and enjoying a day with her mother when the truth of the matter was revealed to her.
“I would never have made you marry Sorrel,” Sequoia had said indignantly when Tierra brought the subject up.
Surprised and angry, Tierra had held her temper regardless. “Then why did you threaten it?”
“To force you to act,” Sequoia had said with a pointed look. She always seemed much less intimidating when she was not holding court. At court, she and her husband would wear stiff formal robes, large crowns of great weight and unmistakable stateliness, and stern visages. At times like this, however, they both allowed themselves to relax their features and wear typical loose Groundbreather clothing with simple silver circlets. Tierra much preferred seeing her mother this way.
At Tierra’s frown, Sequoia continued: “Your Skychild was making a mockery of us all, and that had to be corrected. Now that he has been taken in hand, the balance is as firm as it should be, and he will not need to constantly shuffle around the castle in pain.”
At Tierra’s shocked expression, Sequoia had chuckled and patted her daughter’s hand. “Yes, he is a Skychild, Tierra, but I do not want to keep him in pain at all times. He is a much more useful servant when he is able to go about his duties without having to take care not to aggravate his injuries.”
“Then why was he beaten so often?” Tierra had demanded.
“So he would learn his place. The other Skychildren do not get beaten, do they? The Skychildren are insolent and love to torment us, but they are still thinking beings, just like us. We need him to resign himself to his new life. Now that he has, I dare say that he might even be happy in his situation one day.”
Though Tierra could not ever imagine Skye being happy as a slave, she had pushed the matter from her mind. This was a side of her mother that Tierra had never seen before. Her surprise must have registered on her face, as her mother had said gently, “Sometimes, a queen must do things that are pers
onally abhorrent in the interest of achieving something worthwhile. You may only be second in line to the throne, but when you marry, it will likely be to a man of some power. You need to learn to make decisions with more than your immediate concerns in mind. Sometimes, those decisions may involve a level of pain or hardship in one way or another and, Terrain forbid, may even lead to death and sorrow. You simply have to make sure the goal is worth whatever pain you must impart.”
Tierra had picked at an imaginary spot on her dress, considering what had been said. “I suppose I should be glad that I will never have to shoulder the burden of ruling the Groundbreathers.”
“It can be difficult,” Sequoia had said, “though I know you would be a fine queen if it ever came to that. I fear Wisteria’s heart is too inwardly focused.”
“Hopefully, she will not need to shoulder the responsibility for many years yet. Perhaps she will grow into it.”
Queen Sequoia had laughed. “I will admit that thought is not unappealing.”
Tierra had smiled at her mother, glad they had been able to share this moment together without Wisteria, who was frequently nearby whenever Tierra was in company with her mother. Sequoia had always seemed so strong and self-assured that it was often difficult to picture her as feeling anything but confident. Maybe the burden of ruling fell more heavily on her than Tierra had thought.
Tierra simply knew she would never look at her mother in quite the same way again.
* * *
As Tierra began to share more of herself with Skye, she began to feel as if he were a confidante of sorts. She knew that whatever she shared with him would reach no other ears, and by the same token, he seemed to realize that she would never tell anyone about the things he told her. Of course, they would both suffer should anyone realize they were talking so intimately, but she also had the security of knowing that he would sooner cut off his leg than have an extended conversation with any Groundbreather but her; as a result, so as long as they behaved with circumspection, they should be safe. She was unsure how she had managed to obtain his respect, but she was glad for it.
Eventually, she decided that it might be good for him to see how wonderful the Groundbreather world could be. Not everything consisted of whippings and threats and chores and a lack of freedom. She felt it incumbent upon her to enlighten Skye on the good things surrounding him.
And so she began to venture out into the courtyard and castle gardens more frequently, pointing out different plants and expounding upon how amazing it was that they could take light and water and dirt and grow to such miraculous sizes. He seemed amused by her enthusiasm and made no moves to check her, even when she pointed out such innocuous creatures as moles and squirrels in her effort to make him more appreciative of the world beneath the clouds. She was not sure if she was successful in moderating his opinions, but she thought there was more of a softness in his gaze whenever they walked in the gardens. The only downside to their ventures outside was that sometimes he would pause and stare upward at the sky, his eyes tracing the clouds as he no doubt thought of the home he might never see again. It was that look in his eyes that made Tierra’s chest feel tight, but she was usually successful in distracting him from his sorrows.
They were out in the gardens one day when Skye interrupted Tierra as she was marveling over a new flower that had been planted by the gardeners.
“If you think that is beautiful, you ought to see Skychild art.”
“Skychild art?” Tierra repeated dubiously. She had heard some things said about Skychild art, and none of it had been good. Of course, none of the Skychildren had ever spoken of the matter, and she rather doubted that any Groundbreather who spoke derisively about the subject had actually ever seen any art themselves.
“Yes, art,” he said. “I don’t mean things like the commissioned sculptures of dead royalty that you’ll find around here. I’m talking about beauty for beauty’s sake—like a flock of birds dancing along the edge of a sunset . . . or an artist capturing the beauty of the stars on a canvass.”
“I have heard about Skychild art,” Tierra said slowly, “but I cannot say that I understand it. Why would you paint a picture of the stars?”
“For different reasons,” Skye said, glancing briefly at Strix. The bird, which served as the living excuse Tierra used to explain why Skye needed to accompany her outside, was perched on his gloved left hand. “For some, it’s the act of creating something. For others, it’s about having something that is lasting. Some people even just like the joy of reliving a special moment, fleeting though it may be.”
Tierra shook her head. “I still do not understand it.”
Murmuring quietly, Skye lifted his free right hand in the air, fingers spread apart, and the butterflies that had been scattered throughout the garden, gathering nectar from a multitude of flowers, began to drift toward his outstretched fingers.
As Tierra watched, the pretty insects clustered in half-circles around Skye’s hand, like color grouping with like. When a large mass had gathered, the butterflies’ wings fluttering and creating ripples in the living image, they began to move into different shapes and images—a flower, a striped square, a rectangular mosaic of random colors.
The display was impressive and mesmerizing, and Tierra found herself utterly captivated. When at last the butterflies began to break up and fly away, Tierra looked at Skye, whose twitching lip told her that he had not missed how affected she was by what he had shown her.
She considered feigning indifference to what she had seen in an attempt to remove that smug look from his face, but she doubted Skye would believe her if she did. “All right,” she said reluctantly, “that was rather moving. I suppose I must grant you that.”
He chuckled—a rare sound she enjoyed hearing—and said, “Uh huh.”
“But I always thought that art was not mobile or temporary. You have to have the right circumstances for what you did to occur, and the effect is not long-lasting.”
“That doesn’t matter. Art can be found in all things. There are some Skychild artists who even believe that beauty can be found in the random splatter of paint on a blank canvas.”
“Really?” Tierra asked with obvious skepticism.
“Really. I can’t say I necessarily agree with that, but I will say that art is a more complicated issue than Groundbreathers realize. If it’s purely functional, then it probably isn’t art. But that isn’t necessarily a hard rule.”
She tilted her head, thinking about it. “I guess in some ways our dance to honor Terrain is a form of religious art, is it not?”
His expression soured at the remembrance, but he nodded his head and admitted, “Yes. The dance isn’t permanent, but that isn’t important. It’s about what you feel and about what is felt by whoever is watching.”
“I see,” Tierra said thoughtfully. “I suppose it is to be lamented that our peoples are enemies then. Your butterflies are probably the only glimpse I shall ever see of Skychild art.”
“You never know. Maybe someday when—well, just maybe someday.” Skye gave an awkward shrug.
Tierra nodded and reached up to touch Strix, who had seemed leery of the butterfly display. “Yes, you never know. Maybe someday, one of the Skychildren shall fall madly in love with me and sweep me up into the sky to show me the entire Skychild kingdom.”
Skye’s chuckle was almost infectious. “Yes, that’ll be the day. The day a Skychild falls in love with a Groundbreather will be the day I marry you myself.”
She grinned. “You never know what could happen!”
“No,” he said, “I’m pretty sure I do.”
The sound of sudden clapping caught their attention, and Skye and Tierra both looked about, startled. Upon seeing Wisteria approach, Tierra scowled. Her sister’s motives could not be good ones. Had she overheard their conversation?
“Bravo, slave,” Wisteria said with a sneer. “Bravo.”
She then turned her mocking smile to Tierra
and said, “Have you trained him to do anything else? Can he roll over and play dead? Or maybe he can actually eat his food with a fork rather than simply burying his face in his potatoes?”
She was clearly trying to get a rise out of Skye. It was not something she had attempted since Sequoia had decided Skye was settling into his life in the castle, likely because Wisteria had not felt secure enough to bait Skye without reason. Despite Wisteria’s newest attempt at provocation, however, Skye—much to his credit—kept his head lowered and did not respond. Bearing with such indignities seemed to have become much easier for Skye in the past few days, and Tierra was proud of him. Wisteria could try the patience of the gods themselves!
“Has the arrogant Skychild lost his glib tongue?” Wisteria pressed. “What an astonishing and wholly disappointing development. I was looking forward to placing a few more welts on his back.”
“Did you want something, Wisteria?” Tierra finally asked. She was not in the habit of being so confrontational with her sister, as it tended to make Wisteria even more insufferable than she usually was, but sometimes she could not help herself.
“Nothing special,” Wisteria said, though her intense glare did not change to match the seemingly nonchalant sentence. “I am simply keeping an eye on this Skychild. His subservient act might have fooled our mother, but I am positive that he is not as cowed as he would have us believe.”
Privately, Tierra knew that Wisteria was not far from the truth, but whatever response she was going to make was interrupted when Strix squawked and flapped his wings from his perch on Skye’s hand. Tierra looked at him, wondering what the bird had said. Whatever it was, Tierra was certain it was not complimentary to Wisteria.
Wisteria shook her head, eying Strix with some distaste. “I despise that hideous bird. It was fortunate that he was given to you. After all, I would never tolerate having something that disgusting in my personal chambers.”
On Wings of Air (Earth and Sky Book 1) Page 16
