The Lark's Pearl
Chapter Eight

The hallway is narrow and dark. I am relying on his knowledge to guide us through. I am barefoot, but my socks should be enough to protect my feet from the cold.

“I would light a torch,” he says, “but we are not far from where I hope to bring you.”

“And where is it you are taking me?” I ask, clasping my free hand around his arm.

“To the courtyard with all the Ariabella flowers.”

My heart flutters in my chest. This must be a dream. I will wake up in bed, in my own home, and my mother will remind me of our appointment to retrieve Clara’s earrings.

“I wanted to show you the garden before you left,” he goes on, bringing my hand close to his chest as we come to a sudden halt. “Of course, I know I will be seeing you again.”

“You are confident in that statement,” I say, searching the dark for his eyes.

“I am; I’m the prince, after all. I can make it happen.”

“And you want to make this happen?”

“More than you know.”

Light streams in as the wall to my right open to a wall of green ivies. I blink my eyes until they adjust to the sunlight.

“Before we frolic to our hearts’ content.”

The prince faces me, my hand is still close to his chest.

“I need to know how you felt when the Lark did not return,” he says, staring into my eyes.

“How do you know about that?” I whisper, frozen in place.

“Just tell me how you felt. I have things to say, but I need to know this first.”

He moves his hair, revealing his tattoo. I look at our clasped hands, then back to his eyes. How do I muster the words to express the disappointment I felt, on my own birthday? Why does he want me to tell him how I felt? Why does it all matter?

“You’ve got your thinking face on,” he whispers, narrowing his gaze.

“You’ve done nothing but confuse me more, Elias,” I say, but I am cut off when he kisses me.

I don’t know what to do. He pulls away and watches me.

“I waited a year to be able to do that,” he whispers, “because how strange would it have been if a bird asked you for a kiss?”

I gasp, “Little friend.”

All I can do is stare. Elias and I are on the grass, beneath a large; Elias on his back and I beside him. My mundane mind is trying to piece together the probability of the Lark being the prince.

“How?” I ask, looking down at him.

“The only answer I have to offer is magic,” he chuckles, resting his head on his hands as the sun shines down on him, eyes closed. “It just happened.”

“Then… tell me how you ended up near Vratha, at my stream, with a pearl. A pearl every day, for a year.”

Elias sighs, peeking an eye open at me.

“I was running away,” he says, sitting upright and resting hands on his knees. “My father and I were arguing, the topic is irrelevant now. And I was still learning how to control my Changing. Father told me to remain in my rooms until I came to my senses… I have a collection of pearls, which my mother intended for me. I took one and was planning to use it as payment when I found a place to stay.

“Of course, the only way I could leave the palace, unknown to anyone, was if I flew out a window.”

Elias meets my gaze, shrugging his shoulders.

“I had been flying two days when I landed at the stream. I was resting and intended to continue onward…” He pauses, chuckling softly. “You were watching the deer and the fawn, and I felt compelled to be near you. You know the rest.”

“How were you able to bring a pearl every day?” I ask. “Did you return home every day?”

“That’s the interesting part,” he replies, moving his right hand to rest on top of mine, on the soft grass. “I came across a portal pocket near the stream and it takes me to another one right here, in this courtyard.”

“A portal pocket?”

“Again, I can only say it is magic.”

I look at his hand on mine, smiling.

“Well, I do believe in the existence of pixies,” I whisper, looking back at him. “I am convinced my future sister-in-law is a descendant.”

“And you were at the jewelers’ to make a set of earrings as a wedding present.”

I nod, “Yes.”

“And what about yourself? Would you consider having something made for you, with the pearls?”

“Before this week, I would have been too afraid to even bring even five pearls anywhere.”

His smile softens. “I will have a scribe write you a document of ownership. Show it to anyone, they won’t ask questions.”

I pull away and turn on my knees.

“Why give me anything at all?” I ask, pulling the little pouch out of my sock; I stuck it there so it won’t get lost. “I am not anyone special. I live in the countryside, on a farm. I don’t exactly have suitors coming to call.”

Elias turns onto his own knees and reaches for the pouch.

“You have one,” he says, loosening the drawstrings and pouring the pearl into his palm. “You just didn’t think a bird counted as a suitor.”

“But you’re a prince! Not just any prince, the prince!”

“Ariabella,” he touches my cheek. “Imagine I am not the prince for a moment. Pretend I am just someone who wants to be near you because you make me feel alive.”

I stare at him, my jaw hanging open like a guppy fish making bubbles of air. I can’t think of anything to say to that.

I curtsy and thank the king, profusely, for his kindness. Mother is ready to return home and is descending the palace steps to the waiting carriage. I then turn to Elias, hesitating to bid him farewell.

“Thank you,” I say as he brings my hand to his lips.

“I hope to be seeing you again soon,” he says, holding my fingers longer than needed. “And guard that document.”

I nod, reluctantly pulling my hand away and turning to leave. Telling myself not to look back. My mother is watching me, waiting next to the carriage with her hands folded at her waist. The luggage holding our new dining gowns is loaded and the footman is ready to assist.

I exhale as I stop next to Mother. She nods and steps into the carriage. I steal a glance over my shoulder. Both the king and the prince are still at the top of the stairs. I smile and climb in beside my mother. A footman closes the door and the driver urges the horses forward.

“It was nice of the king to write you a Certificate of Ownership,” Mother says, rubbing my arm.

“It was,” I reply; should I tell her it was Elias and not the king?

I have never been so happy to see my father and brother. They come running out the front door was the carriage comes to a halt. Father helps Mother out and pulls her into a tight embrace, stealing kisses. Erik pulls me into a hug.

“I was so worried,” he whispers, chuckling softly. “What on earth?”

He pulls away, staring at me.

“I was getting a wedding present for Clara,” I explain, reaching into my pocket and producing the jeweler’s pouch. “Of course, they are obligated to report the possession of pearls.”

“Pearls? Where in the world did you get pearls?”

“Story for another day.”

I turn to Father and he pulls me into his arms.

“My brave, little girl,” he says.

I sigh, “It was an experience, one I hope I do not have to go through again.”

“Seeing the king and the palace?”

“No, having someone report me. But that shouldn’t happen now. I have a Document of Ownership.”

“Do you, now?”

He pulls away, hands on my shoulders as he looks me up and down.

“Something is different about you,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t quite think of what it could be, but I see you standing taller than you do.”

I smile, “Am I?”

He chuckles, reaching for Mother’s hand, guiding her toward the house. Erik wraps his arm around my shoulders and we follow our parents closely behind.