Sword Mountain (10 page)

Did Forlath spin around and see her? Were clawsteps hurrying behind her? Dandelion didn't wait to find out. She tore into a side corridor, taking turns and twists whenever available, knowing that if they saw her, it would only take a few beats to overtake her on wing.

Oh, if I could fly now!
she thought.

To her alarm, a bird ambled around the corner just ahead. She skidded to a halt, ready to spin around, but it was none other than the physician who had checked on her earlier in the morning.

“There you are, Dandelion,” the physician said. “I could not find you in your room. I was beginning to wonder if the castle walls had swallowed you up.”

“I got lost.” She panted, keeping an attentive ear for any sound of clawsteps behind her. There seemed to be none.

“There, there,” said the physician, patting her head. “This place does seem to spawn new corridors when your back is turned. But it's all right now.” He gestured for her to turn around. “Come, quickly.”

Dandelion sighed in relief. “Thank you, sir,” she said. They walked in the direction she'd come from. She couldn't wait to be inside the safety of her room and figure out her next step—how to find Fleydur. “I didn't mean to be troublesome,” she added.

The physician led her around a corner. “Not at all. I don't suppose you'd find the queen's chamber by yourself anyhow.”

Dandelion stumbled to a stop. “What?” She must have heard wrong.

“We are going to Her Majesty Queen Sigrid's drawing room. Did I forget to tell you this morning?” he answered cheerfully, assuming Dandelion's wide eyes and open beak were signs of awe. “For some days now, she has been looking forward to conversing with you privately.” He gestured to the door he'd stopped in front of. It was the door she'd fled through only minutes ago.

“Why?” Dandelion cried, edging backward. The door was shut tight, as if the queen's conversation with Forlath hadn't happened at all.

“The queen wants to get to know you, I believe.”

“Can't I go back to my room right now, please, sir?”

“Oh, don't be shy. The queen is a sensitive and caring lady.”

With that, the physician opened the door and shoved Dandelion in.

The door to the room beyond the antechamber was still open, and Dandelion could see inside. The windows were flung wide, the curtains open to let afternoon sunshine pour in. Forlath, it seemed, had left.

“Come in.”

Sigrid's eyes were black, shot with flecks of gold. Her feathers shimmered with yellow powder. She lifted a set of talons to motion to her hummingbird handmaid, and Dandelion noticed that Sigrid's toenails were filed to sharp points and painted bloodred.

The hummingbird brought a plate of cookies to Dandelion.

If the queen gives me a cookie, she can't have seen me
, Dandelion thought, and picked a small one.

“Pour some tea for the child, too,” Sigrid said to her handmaid as she got up and walked to her window. “Whoever do you think was listening at my door a moment ago? I feel it was Fleydur. Thinking he's so sly and clever. He can't even talk to me face-to-face!”

Dandelion nearly dropped her cookie.

“Or maybe it was his valet. It shows how uncouth Fleydur is. He puts up one face for the court, but inside, he's plotting something else altogether. I don't care how much he's overheard. I don't care what he would do about it—”

“He didn't!” Dandelion said.

Sigrid turned around, huge and frightening in her regalia. Ornate lace-edged sleeves only emphasized her bulk as she towered over Dandelion.

“Fleydur didn't listen,” Dandelion whispered.

“Why do you vouch for him, sweetie?” said the queen.

Does she know? Does she know?
Dandelion's mind was paralyzed by fear. Sigrid didn't wait for her answer.

“Does he treat you so well? Is that it?” Sigrid ventured. “I'm puzzled why he would. Come closer,” she said. “My eyes are not as good as they once were. I cannot see you well.”

Sigrid's strong clutch pulled Dandelion forward till they were nearly beak to beak.

“A true valley child,” Sigrid said. “Your feathers, not golden, not caramel, not mahogany, not coffee, not chocolate—just about jet black. A whole bathtub of gold cosmetic powder wouldn't lighten that up.” Sigrid cackled.

Dandelion tried to break away. “Fleydur is good to me because he is kind,” she protested.

“Is he?” Sigrid took a sip of tea.

The calm before the storm
, Dandelion thought.

“Do you know why Fleydur was exiled in the first place?” asked the queen. “A good, virtuous bird isn't threatened with the sentence of death if he returns, for nothing.”

Dandelion shook her head.

“It was for his music and his attitude. In the beginning, Fleydur was restless and secretive, sometimes slipping into the treasury, other times disappearing from Sword Mountain for hours at a time.”

Sigrid banged her teacup on the table at the memory. “Who finally caught him fooling around with one of the kingdom's most important treasures? Me. Then Morgan suspected Fleydur of stealing funds for the enemy, but I knew Fleydur was dabbling in music. When the court investigated where Fleydur sneaked off to, who decided to follow him? Me, with my courtier Simplicio. For the greater good of the mountain, I hardened my heart and went to spy on the stepson I had raised. It was I who presented the indisputable evidence that earned him his exile!”

Dandelion saw a terrible mixture of pain and pride on Sigrid's face.

“We caught him squawking ‘songs' with coarse beggars. It was shameful! Yet when I listened to the words, I knew that the ideas swarming in his mind were more dangerous than the tunes themselves.” Sigrid pointed at Dandelion. “Now that you're healed, I can tell he's up to something again. That's why I summoned you here. I know what he's conspiring to do has to be bigger than getting the right to sing, but I cannot lay my talon on it.”

“But I barely see him, Your Majesty,” said Dandelion carefully.

“You silly child!” All vestiges of courtesy disappeared from Sigrid's face. “Still backing Fleydur, are you? He's sly enough to save you, so you are obliged to be grateful to him; he's even slyer to bring you here, where everybird else loathes you, so you'll stay loyal to him. Do you think he cares for you? He cut himself off from family values, long ago. But I,” she said, “I am a mother.” She set down her teacup with finality. “Let me know then if Fleydur acts strangely. Come to me, and for every report of Fleydur you give me, I will give you flight lessons.”

At that moment Dandelion remembered a nugget of truth about Fleydur's thoughtfulness that made her doubt the queen. “Fleydur wished me happy birthday. He sang me ‘Happy Birthday.'”

Sigrid recoiled.

“He lies,” she whispered. “Ask him about when you'll see your parents again. Watch him stall. Watch him lie.”

The hummingbird opened the door for Dandelion.

Dandelion discovered the physician several corridors away, chatting with a guard. “Wonderful day for you, isn't it, Dandelion? Going to school and meeting the queen?” he said. “And the housekeeper brought new dresses for you, too, courtesy of the Castle of Sky; now won't you like that?” He led her back toward her room.

Dandelion said her thanks and followed. Deep in her thoughts, she didn't notice when the physician left and she entered her sickroom.

“Dandelion? What's wrong? How did your classes go?” Dandelion jumped as she saw that Fleydur himself was sitting in the room in the noon warmth, waiting. It was his first visit in several weeks now. A smile graced his face.

“I don't want to return to the tutor's class,” said Dandelion. “I want to see my parents. I want to go home.”

“I will personally bring you to your family's cave someday. But now we need to take care of you, too,” he said. “Why don't you want to go to class with Simplicio?”

“I'm a valley weed,” she said, and shut her beak and inspected her feet.

Fleydur paused at this, frowning. “You don't need to go to Simplicio's class, then,” he said gently. “Dandelion. Look at me. You are fine the way you are, understand?” His words were quiet and deliberately restrained, but Dandelion could see his feathers quivering.
He cares
, she thought. Anxious that she sounded like a childish tattler, she tried to say something else. Stirring up trouble or making the prince do anything more for her was the last thing she wanted to do.

She thought of the queen. “Fleydur, I have something important to tell you.” Fleydur looked concerned. “When I got out of class, I got lost in the hallways and went into the wrong place. I thought it was here, the doors were so alike.” She swallowed. “I went into a room and heard the voice of the queen. She sounded angry about you. Then later she actually talked to me and … I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but Fleydur, you should be careful!”

To her horror, Fleydur relaxed, and he even gave a light laugh. “I was worried my mother had turned too sour for eaglets' company. She's got room in her heart for youngsters after all.”

He shook his head merrily. “And nobird is going to say anything about you just because you accidentally went into the wrong room, Dandelion. And Sigrid, though hot-tempered and stubborn sometimes, gets along fine with me.”

“But—”

“It doesn't matter.” Fleydur shook his head again, as if trying to get Dandelion to understand something. “My own mother died of an illness when I was quite young,” he said gently. “It was Sigrid who raised me all those seasons and preened my feathers when I had a fever. Her love for me and her love for the mountain show in different ways.”

Dandelion closed her beak. He made her sound unreasonable, suspecting one's own mother, and for a moment she felt absurd.
Could the queen be right?
Dandelion contemplated the thought. Fleydur had been kind to her, but could he have had some ulterior motive, as Sigrid had claimed? Did Dandelion truly know what the prince was like?
He was young once
, she thought.
He had a tutor. He was a prince who sat in those empty places in the front row of the class.
Was Fleydur a Cloud-wing or a Pouldington?

Fleydur looked sad. “If you were wondering, I think I know why my mother would be so agitated about me.”

“Does it have something to do with why you've been away so much?”

“Yes. I plan to create a special school on Sword Mountain. I've submitted the proposal, and I will hear from the court tomorrow. They call themselves the Iron Nest, guarding the egg of the mountain's future … iron mind-sets, more like, I fear. We need a special place, a refuge from the likes of Simplicio, where birds like you can be happy.”

Dandelion realized that Fleydur was almost an outsider with his views, well meaning but misunderstood. He was a Dandelion.

“Oh, prince,” she said in a small voice. “But you—”

“Don't worry about me, Dandelion,” Fleydur said.