I didn’t stop to question the wisdom of the plan but climbed up onto the balcony ledge, balancing on the edge with my hands against the castle wall. I touched a stone near my head and demanded it fall.
Smooth rock, beneath my palm,
Move so I can climb this wall.
The rock immediately loosened and fell, creating a perfect divot for my fingers to cling to. I tapped the wall with my toe and repeated the spell, to create an opening for my right foot. The rock obeyed, and I started my precarious descent, creating hand holds and ledges all the way down, until the cart was a mere handful of feet below me. Then I let go.
It was a fortunate thing I couldn’t scream, because I would have given myself away. The cart wobbled and began to tip, and I scrambled for the side and catapulted over it, skirts twining around my legs, as the car teetered and groaned. Thank goodness I hadn’t dropped from forty feet—the cart would be in pieces. I would be in pieces. I dusted myself off, heart pounding, nerves quaking, but I smiled too. Victory was awfully sweet, and the act of rebellion gave me a surge of self-confidence that had me stealing along the town square and into the quiet city, not at all sure of where I was going, caring only that I was free to go.
A dog with a missing tail and a mangled ear followed me for a bit before I made him stay. He sat on his ragged rump and watched me disappear. I felt his need, and the word alone was present in his whimper.
I know, I soothed. I’m sorry. But I had no home to give him, and I could only offer commiseration. I kept walking, darting from one dark street to the next, trying to enjoy my brief freedom and the night that held it, but the joy was already leaching from my skin, and I stopped at the edge of an orange grove, feeling foolish and lost.
A bird flew overhead and released a mournful shriek, a sound that before now I’d only heard in the distance, and it pierced my heart.
I am lonely too, pretty bird.
It circled above me in a graceful descent that narrowed until he came to a quivering stop on a low branch so close I could have reached out and stroked him. I smiled in recognition.
Look at you! Where did you come from?
I took a few steps forward and stopped again, tilting my head so I could study him further. He looked exactly like the bird in the forest near my father’s keep in Corvyn, like the bird who’d perched on the balcony wall, the one I’d been sure was just a piece of a dream.
Home.
The word rose from the bird, a warm sensation, and my lips trembled in empathy. I didn’t cry easily. It was a badge of honor, of toughness. I was a slip of a girl, a woman with little to offer and nothing to say, but I had my dignity, and tears were undignified.
Home, he said again, and I felt the urgency and the sorrow, as if he’d lost his and wanted me to know.
I don’t have a home either, I said to the eagle, and closed my eyes to deny the wet that wanted to spill over.
I felt his distress echo mine, a shot of alarm that split the word home into a warning and a wail, and with a sudden flare of his wings, the eagle left the branch and landed softly on my shoulder. I staggered in surprise, and my eyes snapped open as I steadied myself against the tree I stood beside.
I was afraid to move, fearful that I would make him fly, and I didn’t want him to leave. He was so big that if I turned my head, my cheek would brush his breast, perched the way he was. His wings were pinned back and they trailed along the length of my right arm, the very tips brushing my hand.
Home.
I cannot take you home, my friend. But I will stay with you for a while.
I didn’t know if he understood, but he nudged me with a brief bob of his silky head and lifted off as suddenly as he’d landed. He flew a little ways, landed on another branch, and waited for me to come to him. I tipped my head in question and he mimicked the gesture.
Home.
We continued on this way. The eagle would lift off, fly a little ways—always within view—and flutter to a stop on a gable or a gate or another branch. He would wait for me, watching me walk toward him, then he’d do it all again. I followed him, enchanted, not knowing where I was going, traipsing along the shadowed paths and the forested outskirts of Jeru City, as if the world belonged to the two of us. I walked until I neared the western wall, at least two miles from the king’s castle. When I heard the call of the night watchman, I hesitated and turned around, suddenly unsure and more than a little lost.
We weren’t far from the road, but the houses had grown sparse and mostly disappeared. If not for the night watchman’s call and the wall that rose up in the distance, I would have had no clue as to my whereabouts. I felt silly and small and started back in the direction I’d come, hoping I could find my way back to the castle.
The eagle soared above my head, so close that I felt a gust of air above me and the brush of his wings, drawing my eyes and demanding my attention once more. There, just among the trees, not far from the wall, was a little cottage with a thickly thatched roof and sturdy walls, nestled in the trees, almost blending with the landscape. It boasted a window with a real glass pane and a dark-colored door, the hue undecipherable in the shadows.
The eagle landed on the highest point of the steep roofline and waited for me to approach. The cottage was too tidy to be abandoned and too still to be occupied. I could feel no life seeping through the walls, no tangled thoughts or peaceful dreams. If someone lived here, they weren’t home.
Home.
I felt the word again, and the bird dipped and plunged before extending his giant wings and lifting up and away, a silent stretch of black that disappeared into the dark, leaving me in front of the little cottage in the woods.