Dragonfield by Jane Yolen Read Free Book Online Page B

unraveled.”
    The queen smiled, smoothing out many of her worst wrinkles but adding several new ones around the mouth. “Oh, that should be no time at all.”
    Mother smiled back and said nothing, but the smile never reached her eyes. She had had no geasa laid on her tongue.
    Father, ever honest, opened his mouth to speak and Mother elbowed him back. He swallowed hastily and shut his mouth. Lies take spoken words, at least according to the restriction of his fate.
    Just then I became visible again, but at that point no one really cared.
    Fifteen years can be a long or a short time, depending upon whether one is immortal or not. Princess Talia spent her fifteen as though she had an eternity to enjoy, learning little but how far the bad temper she had inherited from her father could take her. She had the gifts of beauty and wit that we had conferred upon her and they stood her in good stead with the company she kept. But she was rather short on gratitude, kindness, and love, which take rather longer to bestow than a morning’s christening.
    I spent the fifteen years reading through the L section in Father’s library. I discovered I had an aptitude for Logic, which surprised everyone but Father. I also studied Liturgy, Lepidoptery, and Linguistics; I could do spells in seventeen tongues.
    My eldest sister seriously questioned this last accomplishment. “If you can never leave this land, why do you need more than one language?” she asked.
    I could not explain the simple love of learning to her, but Father hushed her. “After all,” he said, “when fifteen years are up …”
    “Give or take a month,” I added.
    “… Things may be very different around here.” He smiled but would say no more.
    On her fifteenth birthday, Talia summoned all the local fey to her party except me. I had been left off of every guest list since her christening. My sisters and brothers were jealous of that fact, but there was nothing they could do about it. Even fairies cannot change the past.
    Talia called her party a “Sleep-Over Ball” and announced that everyone was to come in nightclothes. Talia herself ordered a new gown for the occasion that resembled a peignoir, with a peek-a-boo Alençon lace and little pink ribbons sewn in strategic places. She was much ahead of her peers and had a positive genius for seduction. There was not a male member of the peerage who had escaped her spell and several fowlers and a stable boy were languishing for love of her. Even my oldest brother Dusty, who had rather common tastes, was smitten and planned to go to the party with a handful of crushed pennyroyal in each pocket, to keep the magic—as he put it—“close to the seat of his affection.”
    “Affliction,” I said.
    Dusty smiled and tousled my hair. He was smitten, but not without a sense of humor about it all.
    Father and Mother were allowed to beg off since this was to be a party for young folk.
    We three watched from the pavilion steps as the twelve flew into the moonlight, the wind feathering their wings. As they passed across the moon, like dust motes through light, I had a sudden fit of shivers. Father put his arm around me and Mother fetched me a shawl. They thought it was the cold, you see.
    But it was more than that. “The fifteenth year,” I whispered, “give or take a month.” My voice was thinned out by the night air.
    Father looked at Mother and they both looked at me. Whatever I had felt, whatever had made me shiver, suddenly communicated to them as well. Mother said not a word but went into the pavilion and emerged moments later with a hat and a long wool scarf for me, an Aran Island sweater for Father, and a muff for herself. She had bad circulation and flying always leaves her with cold hands.
    We closed our eyes and spoke the spell.
    Far frae earth and far frae barrows,
    Up to where the blue sky narrows,
    Wind and wildness, wings and weather,
    Allie-up together.
    Now!
    As I lifted into the air I could feel the