The Flute Keeper's Promise (The Flute Keeper Saga)

by Ashley Setzer

  A pang of conscience hit Lev. He placed a hand on Lord Finbarr’s shoulder and shook his head. “They need to hear it from me.”

  Lord Finbarr gave a little nod and stepped back.

  Lev took a deep breath. He never thought this day would come. Ever since the horror of Moonlight Pass, he’d walked away from his previous life. He had abandoned his duties. He thought they had all turned to dust with the bones on the battlefield.

  Now the past was staring him in the face and he had no choice but to confront it.

  He cleared his throat. The underground chamber was silent save for the rustling of wings.

  “King Hagan—” he began. He faltered. The words he’d never said stuck in his throat. He saw Noemi watching him. Her pale face was full of wonder. It felt like ages since he’d seen a Slaugh so young. Maybe there was hope yet.

  “King Hagan Winterwing III was my father,” Lev said. “I am Hugo Winterwing VI.”

  He waited for the words to sink in.

  Katriel was the first one to speak. “Prince Hugo was killed!” she shouted. “He was branded and executed with Queen Linaeve!”

  Lev pointed to the scar on his face. “Branded, yes. Executed, no. My mother helped me to escape Bleeding Bastion before they—” he had to pause again. He didn’t want them to hear the despair in his voice.

  Lord Finbarr gave him a bracing squeeze on the arm.

  “Queen Linaeve helped me escape before they executed her,” Lev said, unable to meet their eyes any longer.

  There was a moment of silence as all present mourned anew their departed queen. Linaeve Winterwing had been a disputed figure. Not all the Slaugh had accepted her because she was half Fay. Now she gleamed from the past as a pillar of unshakable courage.

  Katriel lowered her head. “Then that does make you our king.”

  “He is the only heir,” Lord Finbarr said. “Do any of you disagree?”

  Again, only silence filled the space.

  “Lev—er, I mean, King Hugo,” Lord Finbarr said.

  Lev’s wings gave an involuntary twitch at the name. “Call me Lev,” he said.

  “No. From now on you are King Hugo,” said Othella.

  Lev turned to find her watching from the narrow entrance to the chamber.

  “You’ve hidden it long enough,” Othella said. “It’s time to embrace it. Your people need a leader, and W.R.A.I.T.H. needs a king as an ally more than you can possibly imagine right now.”

  The forbidding tone of her voice chilled Lev. “What has happened?”

  Lord Finbarr sighed beside him. The cheer went out of his round face. “We’ve obtained some news about Robyn.”

  A jolt of adrenaline shot through Lev. “Tell me.”

  Lord Finbarr waved his hand in a gesture to speak quietly. “We’ve found her mechamen. They’re building an army.”

  Agitated, Lev scraped his wings together. “Then what are you waiting for? They have to be stopped!”

  “We can’t reach them,” Lord Finbarr said.

  Then it dawned on Lev. He knew why they’d made him divulge his true identity.

  “You want me to lead these people against Robyn’s forces,” he said slowly. “A Fay-Slaugh alliance?”

  “The first one in ages,” Lord Finbarr said.

  The proposal made Lev’s head reel. If he took up Lord Finbarr’s request, he could continue what his father had started years ago. He could unite his people under a common cause.

  But he was also a realist. “We are so few,” he whispered. “These are refugees, not soldiers.”

  “Every Slaugh is a soldier,” Othella said, locking her eyes to his. “Your father used to say that.”

  Lev studied her anew. Those eyes, so icy blue, had come up once or twice during his boyhood. There isn’t a word in our language for a color like that, his mother used to say. I wish you could meet her, little lion. Only lately had he come to realize that she was talking about Othella. Now he had no doubts about the strength of their friendship. He felt Othella’s grief at losing it every time she looked at him.

  But that was his mother. She’d never mentioned his father before.

  “We have weapons,” Othella said. “Slaugh weapons. And armor. Your father was a brazen man, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew there was always a chance of rebellion, so he kept a secret cache of supplies. We’ve retrieved most of it.”

  Stunned, he asked, “You knew him well?”

  Othella smiled. “Well enough, and longer than anyone else. You have his looks. The first time I saw you I could have sworn you were him, just as these Slaugh here did. I was worried that you’d inherited his temperament as well, but watching you these past few months I’ve come to see much more of Linaeve in you than Hagan. You look at me with his eyes, but you have her heart.”

  Lev watched the Slaugh refugees. They looked hopeful, but they were all so young. A host of doubts swamped him. Just because W.R.A.I.T.H. gave them shelter didn’t mean the rest of the Fay would accept them. They were sure to meet with scorn and resistance. Furthermore, they were being asked to fight against an enemy whose power was not understood but greatly feared. There were important decisions to be made—too many important decisions.

  There was one other thing. Two years ago, he’d promised himself that he’d stand by the gray-eyed girl of his vision. Emma Wren was as much as part of Lev Hartwig’s life as the skin on his bones and the blood in his veins.

  Would there be room for her in King Hugo’s life as well?

  CHAPTER TWO

  “You’re losing it!”

  “I am not!” I shouted. Sweat poured down my face. Just above my head floated a fat, pink, very confused fluffalo.

  “It’s dropping! Focus!”

  I fought the urge to hurl the fluffalo at High Priestess Grimmoix. I’d been suspending things in mid-air all morning and I was exhausted.

  “One more minute!” the priestess crowed.

  I shook. It felt like my head was about to explode. “I can’t!”

  The fluffalo bawled as my magic faltered. I dodged out of the way and regained control just in time to keep the poor beast from crashing to the floor.

  High Priestess Grimmoix let out a sigh of irritation. Bits of gray hair had come loose from her head scarf so that she looked more witchlike than usual. “Why don’t you just give up?”

  Scowling, I summoned my last reserves. I watched anxiously for the last grains of sand in the hourglass on the table to drop. The second the final grain fell, I let the fluffalo drop clumsily to the floor.

  Drained, I leaned against a table, gasping for air.

  “Hmph,” High Priestess Grimmoix grumbled. She snapped her fingers and the fluffalo reverted to a small figurine. “Progress. Very little. You’re not nearly where you should be with the induction coming up in only a month.”

  I rubbed my temples. Mornings in the priestess’s study always wore me out. The closer I got to my formal induction to the clergy, the meaner she became.

  The fact that I’d lasted so long astounded me as much as it irritated her. It had become evident within the first month that I was not priestess material. Magic skills or lack thereof aside, I wasn’t disciplined enough. My life outside the cathedral was one of mischief, violence and flirtation. It got me no end of grief from the Door, the screening device for entering the cathedral. The weathered old slab of wood was like a sin-seeking radar. The only reason it let me into the cathedral at all was because I was still in my one year grace period.

  “Quit lollygagging,” Priestess Grimmoix said. “You’re due at the cathedral.”

  Groaning, I stood up. The old lady’s hateful gaze followed me all the way up the ladder to the hatch door entrance to her study.

  “I want to see vast improvement next time! At this rate you’ll never pass the induction trials!”

  The hatch made a loud bang as I slammed it. From there, I made my way to the castle’s central pavilion.

  The bright hall was like a fish bowl made of colored
glass. Bits of daylight bounced off the shiny floor and the walkways that led to the second and third levels of the tower. There was no evidence that the hall had been a wreck only months ago. The archway where the Jet Propelled League Cruiser had crashed was all patched up thanks to Ivywild’s skilled Enchanters.

  I sidestepped a cloud of Pixies and headed for the courtyard. I could already smell the fragrant blossoms that crowded the castle steps.

  A gorgeous day awaited me beyond the castle doors. The sky was bright blue flecked with only the wispiest of clouds.

  Out of habit I lifted my face and watched the sky. I was still waiting for a sign from the Seraphim of Avalon. So far I’d seen nothing. I was beginning to wonder if they’d ever summon me back to their island in the clouds. After a few minutes I gave up and headed through the market square to the cathedral.

  The sights in the square were a familiar comfort. Fay ladies walked with their children among wagons and booths. Cusith hounds with their wooly green fur lay sleeping in the shade of awnings. A Gnome rushed by with a basket of fish. His head came no higher than my knees. Amorous Pixies chased each other through the air so fast that their clear wings were just a blur.

  It was a perfect day—almost. I knew if I listened long enough, I’d hear fearful voices recount the rumors that had reached Ivywild from all corners of Faylinn: disappearances, attacks, sightings of strange creatures with a bloodlust and other macabre things that caused the once trusting citizens to bolt their doors at night and look twice at every unfamiliar face. The buzz kept growing. So did Ivywild’s population as more and more Fay poured in from the outlying villages to seek safety within the castle walls. From where I stood in the square, I could see the tops of tents in the residential quarter. The temporary shelters housed hundreds of relocated Fay.

  At first, it hadn’t been so bad. Now every outlander who came to Ivywild faced scornful glances from the locals. There was talk of limiting the flow and stopping people at the cliff down below. The acting ruler hadn’t made a decision about it yet. Chloe had enough to deal with.

  It had been a turbulent year. Not all of it had been bad. When I hadn’t been in training or helping Chloe, I had been running through combat drills. I’d grown faster and more agile under Lev’s watchful eye. I could do things with a blade that would make any Slaugh proud.

  Best of all, I had finally cracked Lev’s shell. He was still callous and rude and a downright bully when he was teaching me how to defend myself, but otherwise he had grown patient and even attentive. We could talk now. Despite my training to join the clergy, I sometimes wanted more than that.

  Lev never tried to kiss me. Not since that first kiss when he was locked up a jail cell had he made a move. Either he was oblivious, or he was too respectful of my training to try anything. Some days it was enough to make me tear off my green robe and stomp on it when nobody was looking.

  The breeze brushed my face and I closed my eyes, reliving my one and only kiss. At the time I’d been angry, confused and terrified.

  My eyes flew open and I picked up my pace. I couldn’t re-live that fateful night without thinking of Hue Briar. That was the night I’d discovered that he wasn’t what he seemed.

  I shivered in spite of the warm day. Somebody waved hello as I walked by, but I ignored them. How many times would I see Hue’s beautiful blue eyes clouded with hate? How many more times would I have to see him consumed by fire? The memories were inescapable. They made me wake up some nights shaking.

  Hue’s only crime had been becoming Robyn’s puppet, and he’d done it for me. He’d loved me and he died because of it.

  Hue’s father, the Duke of Briar, was incensed over the loss. His relationship with Hue had not been close, but Hue was his only heir. Now the future of the duke’s overseas domain was uncertain. Messengers arrived every week from Larlaith with the duke’s accusations and demands for answers. He refused to believe that his son was a casualty of nothing more than love and misplaced trust.

  “Tsk tsk,” the cathedral door said when I arrived. “Your aura is as black as a lump of coal in an ink well.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Boys again,” the door guessed. “You’d best forget they exist if you wish to continue towards becoming a priestess. Remember—”

  “A whole spirit means a peaceful mind and an unchained heart. Yes, I remember. Can I go in now? I think I’m running late.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time,” the door said.

  Once inside, I slid off my shoes and looked around.

  In the time since I’d begun my training, the cathedral had grown and revealed itself to me. I used to walk into a long, dark empty hallway. Now I saw many, many doors and heard the voices of all the priests and priestesses who filled the place. They shuffled back and forth between the cathedral’s expansive rooms, sometimes carrying strange objects. Once I’d even seen a priestess walk by carrying a potted shrub. This in and of itself was not remarkable; all priests and priestesses were required to do some gardening. What was remarkable was that a spirit was sitting atop the shrub.

  My own Spirit Mentor appeared in a large sapling, but I could not carry it around with me. The thought of lugging around the tree with my Spirit Mentor peeking from the branches struck me as funny. It helped to take my mind off Hue.

  “Aha! Caught you smiling! That’s a first,” Anouk said as approached with a basket of seeds.

  I glanced at the basket. “Is that from the library?”

  The fawn-eyed priestess laughed. It was an infectious sound. “Goodness no! This is an ingredient for supper tonight. I’m making my special crispy bread for the other trainees. Will you be able to join us?”

  I’d promised Chloe I’d dine with her and after that I was hoping to get in some combat practice with Lev. “Sorry,” I said. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

  “Then I’ll just have to save a slice for you, won’t I?”

  I smiled. It was hard to stay in a bad mood around Anouk. “Sounds good. What’s on the agenda today?”

  “A session with your Spirit Mentor,” Anouk said as she stirred a fingertip around in the basket of hard, shiny seeds. “Then a history recital with me.”

  “No library?” I loved going to the cathedral library. It was an orchard where all the knowledge grew as fruit on trees. I spent hours there some days learning as much as I could. In the past months, I’d become proficient in all things Fay, from their written language to their biology and demographics. It came as a surprise to learn that there were other pockets of Fay with varying appearances and languages scattered throughout Faylinn, just as in the human world. In fact, when you took away the magic, they were more or less the same as humans, reaching all the life stages at roughly the same time and living to an average age of ninety years.

  The same could not be said for Slaugh. So far, I’d only found one tree whose fruit contained knowledge of the race. From it, I’d learned that most Slaugh were lucky to reach forty and that you didn’t want to meet one who had because it meant he’d killed anyone who’d tried to kill him first, thereby becoming a gruesome alpha in a race of top predators.

  I’d asked Lev about it once, pointing out that at eighteen he was nearing middle age.

  “True,” he’d said, dodging a blow to his shoulder (these conversations almost always took place while we were sparring). “I should have taken a wife and fathered children by now.”

  I’d made a face, then ducked and rolled to avoid one of his knives. “Wow, don’t make it sound glamorous or anything.”

  “It’s not, Em. It’s just a fact of life. We die fast, so we have to live fast.”

  I’d paused to wipe some sweat out of my eyes. “You know, maybe you wouldn’t all die so fast if you’d channel your energy into something besides fighting. What about knitting? Or yoga? Ooh, how about meditation? Very calming, I hear.”

  “Em…”

  “Feng shui? Pilates? Tai chi? I’m not sure what those are. I’m just saying words now.”

&n
bsp; Lev had narrowed his eyes and frowned the way he always did whenever he was pretending to be mad at me. “If you were half as good at self-defense as you are at running your mouth, you wouldn’t need to mend your trousers.”

  I’d glanced down. “There’s nothing wrong with my—”

  Lev had then swept by me in a blur and sliced my left pants leg off at the knee.

  “Point made. You know, you’re pretty fast for an old man.”

  “No library today,” Anouk said, bringing me back into the present. “Come find me in the garden when you get finished.”

  The room where my Spirit Tree stood was quiet and dim with just a single ray of light pouring in from one high window. The tree was, as always, eerily still. Not a leaf fluttered until I watered the roots with a can I’d filled with my tears.

  The branches twitched. Leaves rustled. All at once a shimmering purple figure blossomed from the branches. The tall woman, part Fay, part Slaugh, gazed down on me with motherly concern.

  Though I had discovered the identity of my Spirit Mentor by accident, the spirit had no idea of her past life or deeds. She was never distracted by personal memories because she did not have them. She was a guide focused solely on helping me to understand my strengths and confront my weaknesses.

  “Linaeve,” I said.

  The purple spirit beamed something like a smile. Her face, when it was discernible, was exquisite. “I knew you’d come today. These are fresh tears you’ve brought. Are you in mourning again?”

  I sighed. “It’s Hue. I can’t stop thinking about what happened to him.”

  “You’re not to blame,” Linaeve said.

  “Tell that to his father. The Duke of Briar has been making all kinds of threats now that he doesn’t have an heir. I can deal with it, but Chloe…”

  “I see. You’re doubling your guilt by adding hers. This is not constructive, Emma.” Linaeve lowered her head and said sternly, “You must move on.”

  “How?” I asked.

  The leaves of the tree fluttered while Linaeve grew silent. She appeared to be thinking. After a moment she said, “You need something else to occupy your mind.”