“Okay, but just…give me a chance to apologize. That day… the day they took you… I saw something you obviously didn’t want me to see.” When he tilted his head, I added, “Don’t you remember? I read your mind.”
The gleam faltered and he looked down, a white feather earring dangling near his shoulder. “You don't need to be sorry. Once that man trapped me, I was so scared, I forgot all about it. I don’t even know what you saw.”
I recalled the memory of falling a great distance and waking to see the face of a young girl. Willow tended to avoid anything too serious, so the sincere sadness stirring in his eyes was not a sight I enjoyed.
“Remember that story I told you? The one about sparring with the princess from the Kingdom of the Wind?”
I leaned against the red interior wood, designed with little flame carvings. “The one you told before we left? I thought you made that up.”
His frown deepened. “Except I didn't make it up. Well, I made up the sword fight, but I really do know a princess! When I was four years old, I thought I could make it to the Kingdom on my own to get some of their decadent bubbly chocolate. The problem is, I had no control over my power. I made it halfway up, slipped, and fell to what should have been my death. The girl you saw in that memory saved my life. Her name is Phoenix Of-the-Wind, King Wyvern’s youngest daughter.”
This information hit me square in the face. My mouth was agape. Being the subject of prophecy had altered my perspective and attuned me to coincidence. “This princess…do you think she’s the one with ATMOSPHERE?”
“I’m not sure,” Willow lowered his voice, “but there’s a way to find out. Before we leave, I’d like that fortune-teller to let us look at that special book, The Compendium of the Divine. It’ll show us the truth.”
He led me by the sleeve down the hall. “But first, fashion. Look, I’m going to tell our friends about Phoenix, but nobody else can know. She’ll be in danger if Wyvern knows she’s alive.”
We entered a great black doorway leading to a large, luxurious bedroom. I froze. “Are we supposed to be here?”
“Sure. Marrow said it was fine.”
The room was indeed empty, yet some old presence of the king lingered. There wasn’t a chill in the air, but an uncanny feeling of being observed. Willow waved a hand in front of my face.
“Something wrong?”
“Forget it.” I pushed ahead, toward the arched threshold of the king’s closet. “I won’t say anything about Phoenix, but I don’t think it would matter if I did. Are you forgetting about Wyvern sending scouts to the Dark?”
“What's your point?”
“My point? The Wind is already looking for her.”
He closed his eyes and breathed. “I suppose that’s true.”
The closet was a curving hallway, shelves and racks filled with a variety of sizes and fabrics, from the gossamer diamond fern silks of the South to the lush purple leathers of the City. A rustling from deeper in the closet interrupted us, the sound of somebody knocking over a stack of shoe boxes.
“Whozzat?” said an unmistakable voice. Piranha crouched by the disordered pile, a few loose pieces of fabric draped over their head. “Oh good, just you. Will you help me clean this up?”
“Only if you help me find something more appropriate for Badger.” Willow pointed a thumb in my direction. “He wants to wear black.”
Piranha hopped and left the mess behind. “I saw just the thing! Sharp and I have been playing with outfits all morning. Wait here.” They disappeared further into the labyrinthian closet.
Right on cue, Sharp stepped through a rack of dresses, wearing a bright emerald gown, a novel look for a Warrior usually decked in a set of armor. Despite her height, it was still long enough to almost meet the floor, embroidered with sparkling vines.
“Feast your eyes,” she bragged, posing.
“The cut is fine,” Willow noted, “but green isn’t for you, Sparkle Swords.”
She twirled, and the ruffled fabric created a spellbinding effect. “I happen to like it… and it was the only one long enough.” She scoured his ridiculous suit and tsked. “Purple isn't exactly your color either featherboy.”
“Can we switch?”
“In your dreams.”
Piranha, androgynous as ever in straight black pants and a feathery yellow blouse, returned holding a silk shirt in my signature rose-red, with fanned-out sleeves and buttons of glistening silver. “Tada!”
“That's perfect!” I snatched it and tried it on, leaving the black shirt forgotten on the ground. “It fits too! Good find Fangs!”
Sharp caught my eye and smiled with approval. So far, she was the only one I had told about the last words of Glass. Without that knowledge, I don’t know if she would have been able to smile at all.
“Are you boys going to tell us what you were talking about before you came in here?” she asked, modeling a pink shawl. “I can hear all the way down the hall. Who the hell is Phoenix?”
Willow restocked the fallen wall of boxes. “Nobody can mind their business around here. Fine. Listen up.”
He gave an abbreviated account of the fall from the plateau, and his connection to Wyvern’s daughter. Piranha's jaw dropped. Sharp nodded, acting as though it were obvious.
“Badger was right,” Willow acknowledged, stacking the final box at the peak of the pyramid. “She’s already in danger, which is why I'm not going back to the Valley after the funeral. I'm going to the City to find her. The education season starts in a week, and I know she does some teaching there.”
“Great!” Sharp put big, sparkly earrings near her face, scrutinizing each one. “We'll get a ride with my Uncle Glisten after the funeral tomorrow.”
Willow narrowed his eyes. “What is this 'we' business? I'm doing this adventure solo. It's too dangerous.”
Piranha roared with laughter. “Good one Blondie! Cause the four of us can't handle danger, right?”
“That's not the point.”
“There is no point.” Sharp threw one of the chunky earrings at him, which he caught without effort. “We already decided to go to the City before you came in, so you can stick with us or not, tough guy. I'm going to see my family.”
Piranha bobbed their head. “I was going to take a jewelry making course at my cousin’s shop.” They squeezed my cheek. “We figured you'd want to come too, Wild Boy.”
