Fern Capella's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

From the top of the slide, Fern watched the prince step onto the moss. He wore green. His crown was low and simple. He turned toward the koi pond, exactly where she had guessed he would. She braced her small feet on the painted wood and lifted her wings for balance. If he looked up once, he would see her at eye level with the turrets. She only needed one glance. Then a hand closed on the ladder rail below her. A court attendant in gray livery started up the rungs. He was not looking at the prince. He was looking at her. "Down," he said. "Now. No forest things on the playset." His voice was bored. He had said it a hundred times today. Behind him, two more attendants herded children off the swings and out through the hedge gate. Fern's throat closed. In thirty seconds she would be lifted off the slide by her wing and set outside the rose hedge, invisible again, while the prince walked to the pond and back into the castle. Her second seventh day. Wasted. She looked down and saw a flash of odd color at the hedge line. A fox stood there in a purple robe stitched with tiny stars. Pale lilac fur. A pink rose behind one ear. Fern had met her once at the pastel tavern west of the grove, in the corner where the fortune teller took coin. Lavinia Starwhisper. The one whose cards came up wrong now. Lavinia's yellow eyes flicked up to Fern. Then to the attendant. Then to the prince. "Boy," Lavinia called, clipped and clear. "Your left boot." The attendant paused on the ladder. "What?" "Snake in it. Green one. Climbed in at the gate." It was a lie. Fern could see the boot from above. Empty. But the attendant froze, then dropped off the ladder and yanked the boot off, hopping. The other attendants turned to look. A child screamed, delighted. The prince stopped walking and turned his head toward the noise. Toward the slide. Fern stood up straight. The wind lifted her cap. The prince's eyes traveled up the painted wood, past the ladder, and stopped on her face. He saw her. His mouth opened a little. He tilted his head. He did not smile, and he did not scowl. He looked, the way a person looks at something he does not recognize but wants to. Then he lifted one gloved hand and beckoned her down. At the hedge, Lavinia was already melting back into the green. She spoke once over her shoulder without turning. "He'll ask your name. Don't lie. Cards say the lie is what breaks it." The attendant was still shaking his boot. Fern climbed down toward the prince, on her own feet, invited.