Weekly Expression 3.3: The Language of Sound

  

   Matthew did not know that the little black blobs and lines before him belonged to the language of sound. He sat on the leather bench of what he did not realize was a piano, for it had been locked up for years. Only moments before, an owl had swooped through the window, landing on top of the imprisoned piano. It hooted at him, staring deeply into his eyes. Matthew watched the creature as it moved and its talons clicked across the wooden surface. 

    Suddenly, the owl ruffled its feathers, causing some pieces of paper to fall out of its wings. Matthew’s eyes widened. He reached for the papers. 

    “What is this?!” he said to the empty room around him. Matthew studied the pages, covered in symbols he had never seen before. Lines, dots, and dots with lines ran across the paper. Matthew raised an eyebrow. 

    “What does this mean, owl? I don’t know what these markings are. What are you trying to tell me, huh?” 

    The owl tilted its head to one side, almost as if he was listening or somehow concerned about Matthew. Then, in a great flurry of feathers, the owl flew across the room. 

    “Whoah!” Matthew said, covering his head with his hands. 

    Circling back, the owl landed on the bench right next to Matthew. Matthew dared not move. He tried to quiet his breathing, so the owl wouldn’t be cued into his fear. But the owl stared up at Matthew, unmoving. 

    “Uhh...hi, owl.” He slowly lifted his hand into the air, keeping his eyes on the owl the entire time. Since the owl continued to sit motionless beside him, Matthew lowered his hand to pet the owl. To his relief, it did not try to bite him. As he ran his fingers through the owl’s feathers, little sounds emerged from it, almost as if he were purring. Matthew smiled. Then, the owl turned around to face two large, shiny devices hanging off of the piano: locks. The owl fluttered over to one of them, placing his talons in between the chain links. Then, he hooked his beak around  one of the chain links, tighter and tighter, until suddenly, the whole chain snapped and the lock clattered to the floor. The owl flew over to the other lock and soon, it too, fell. 

    “How did you do that?!” Matthew said, staring at the owl. The owl tilted its head to one side. Matthew studied the piano. 

    “What is this thing?” Matthew said, running his fingers across the curved, smooth surface of the keylid. He moved his hands to the bottom of it and lifted, revealing the ivory keys of a grand piano. 

    “Wow…” He said, as he gazed at the device before him. He reached out his hand and soon, a sound he had never heard before filled the room: middle C. He opened his mouth wide and stared at the owl, who had flown over to the living room table, watching Matthew discover something that had not been heard for years. He played an E, then an A. 

    Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps descended the staircase. 

    “Matthew Perry Montgomery!! What on earth is going on down there?!” 

    Matthew’s eyes widened. He slammed the keylid shut and ran to the kitchen. 

    “Matthew Montgomery, just WHAT do you think you are doing?” Ava Marie, his mother, said. 

    “What do you mean, Mom? I was just down here, getting a snack,” Matthew said. 

    His mother pushed past him, into the living room. Her eyes moved to the piano, where the broken locks sat silently on the floor. 

    “MATTHEW PERRY MONTGOMERY, YOU ARE GROUNDED! Do you have ANY IDEA about the kind of trouble you could get us in?!” 

    “But Mom, what do you mean?! It isn’t my fault! This owl flew in and--” 

    “Matthew, WHAT are you talking about?! We are the only ones here. Now, go to your room. Just wait until your father comes home. We’ll be lucky if the police don’t get involved!”

    “Police?! But Mom…” 

    “No buts, just go to your room,” Ava Montgomery said. 

    Before he could say anything else, his mother escorted Matthew to his room and closed the door behind him. Inside, perched on his bedpost, was the owl. Matthew sunk into his bed. 

    “Look at the mess you got me into,” Matthew said to the owl. The owl hooted, then ruffled his feathers, causing the papers from before to fall out once again. He picked them off of his comforter and studied them. 

    “What do these markings mean?” he said. As he held the papers in his hands and turned them over, he noticed that one of the papers had a note on the back. 

    These are the last remaining pieces of sheet music in the country. 

    Please guard them with your life. If anyone finds you with these or hears you

playing an instrument, they will throw you in jail or execute you on the spot. 

    You must learn to decipher these pages -- they are the keys 

    To understanding the language of sound. If you get stuck, 

    Ask the owl. He will help you. 

    Be safe and remember: don’t tell anyone about this!

    -The Last Musician 

Matthew’s brows knitted in confusion. Music. An owl. Illegal. How could any of this be? Suddenly, through his bedroom window, the sound of sirens reached Matthew’s ears and he caught the reflection of red and blue lights outside. 

    “Oh no,” Matthew said. “We gotta go. Come on, owl!” But when Matthew looked for the owl, he was nowhere to be seen. 

“Ugh! Owl, where are you?!” he said, searching the room, ducking his head to look under furniture. And then, under the back corner of his bed, the glowing eyes of the owl appeared in the darkness. 

“Owl, this is no time to hide! We need to go!!” But as Matthew was about to turn away and try to escape out his window, he heard the creaking sound of a hinge turning. The owl had opened a trap door underneath his bed! 

“Get in,” the owl said. Matthew, mouth gaping from hearing an owl speak for the first time, could not move. The sound of the policemen and their radios grew louder, but still Matthew was frozen in place. 

The owl sighed. “Fine,” he said, flying out from under the bed, he caught his talons on Matthew’s shirt, and dragged him toward the trap door. Matthew screamed. Still, the owl pulled Matthew into the trapdoor, grabbed the metal clasp, and shut them in, just as the sound of policemen entering the house resounded behind them. 

Weekly Expression 3.3 By JRK - "Fool's Curse"

 

The wine bottle slipped from Laurent’s hand as he stumbled down the hallway. The blunder drew giggles from the equally intoxicated female companions at his side. Another night of drinking and partying...Maureen shook her head. Her grandson was more reckless and more incompetant than his father had been. At least his father had his wits about him enough to get married and find work to keep himself partially busy. Though that hadn’t lasted long at all. 

            Maureen stepped out of the shadows, tired of

watching her grandson waste every ounce of his life. Enough was enough and she

was prepared to make up for her lack of involvement in what ended up being the

demise of her own son. She would not watch her grandson make the same mistakes,

even if it cost her everything.

            Laurent stopped in his tracks, his two friends

gasped as Maureen stood in the hallway, blocking their path to the bedroom. 

            “Grandmother…” Laurent stood a little straighter

as he tried to compose himself. “I didn’t know...we were just…”

            “Enough!” Her voice was firm and to the point. “I

have sat by all these years waiting and hoping for you to turn things around.

Now I see that at the ripe age of 27 you still will not change.”

            “Grandmother…” He was trying to reason with her

but she would not hear of it. She held up her hand to silence him.

            “Wisdom is what you lack, a spell is needed to get

you on track!” She pulled out her wand...that faithful wand that had seen

better years. It still had a prick of magic left in it...flowing from her own

lifeforce. She stepped towards him, his two lady friends stepped away in fear.

Laurent didn’t have enough wits about him to run too. Maureen bopped him on the

forehead as mist encircled the hallway…“Awake you will, but not the same. Free

from the curse you’ll be when wisdom is your aim.” 

~

 

            Laurent sat up in a frenzy...another night plagued

by the nightmare of that last moment. It replayed in his mind over and over

again each and every night. For ten years he was imprisoned. Ten long,

agonizing years. He pulled himself up and onto the desk to look at himself in

the mirror…

            An owl looked back at him. A white and grey owl.

            He sighed knowing that nothing would change his

life. He’d forever be trapped in this creature's form, never to live a normal

life. All for what? Because his grandmother disapproved? He flew to the piano,

it’s notes played abruptly as he landed. The noise made his feathers stand on

edge. 

            The bell chimed indicating Aveline’s return to

their humble home. She came in, carrying her many loads. Laurent only looked

over his shoulder not even budging from his perch on the piano. He couldn’t

feathers as she passed him. “Brooding again today, are we Lou?”

help her even if he wanted to... She set her parcels down and ruffled his

            She kept going and picked up a couple parcels and

headed to the kitchen. He sat still at the piano, occasionally hitting the key

and listening to it’s tone. He once could light up a room with the beautiful

Such a waste.

melodies from a piano so fine as this...He’d never even seen Aveline play it.

            She was causing quite a ruckus in the kitchen

before she returned to him with a little tray. She set it beside him and

immediately he could smell the aroma of the fresh meat. And this was why he

stuck around! He gulped down the three little pieces of meat and turned his

attention towards her. She took such good care of him, of that he would admit. 

            “Are we friends again?” She asked with a slight

giggle. He wished he could tell her they never weren’t friends. She’d saved his

life that one winter night. He’d been flying blind for three days with no food,

distorted body. He’d crashed into the snow and was waiting for himself to

no warmth, lost in the chaos and confusion of his own mind trapped in this new succumb and end this nightmare he had found himself in. Until he woke up and

never stopped caring for him as they now had spent ten years together. He’d

found himself in a warm little bed, a fire roaring in the distance, and the sweet angel face of Aveline. She cared for him until he was well. And really watched her grow from the little girl that saved him to a working woman. She

twenties. 

was independent and lived alone other than his brooding company. But she seemed

happy and content to live that way. He wasn’t sure how old she was, perhaps mid

            She pulled a blanket around her and buried herself

into the couch. Laurent flew to her and perched on the couch’s arm. 

            “Did you know that the devil, Mr. Henderson dared

ask me on a proper date? Of course I refused. I would never be seen traipsing

around town with the likes of him. I will not be made a housewife to cook and

sat quietly as he listened. That’s all he ever got to do was listen. He became

clean all the day while my husband gets to see people and live his life.” He quite good at it...one had to when you had no other option to communicate. It

was his curse of being an animal. 

            “But, I picked up an extra shift which will be

perfect because then we can finally save up enough money to get out of this

town and start traveling. Oh, Lou! We are so close I can feel it!” 

            A cold breeze wafted in, sending a shiver through

Laurent. He nestled underneath the blanket that was wrapped around her. “Sorry,

Lou. No fire tonight. We need to save our money!” 

The girl was unbelievable

sometimes. He watched her as she fell asleep, occasionally shivering from the

dropping temperature of the room. She never fancied herself the way he thought

all young women did. She didn’t spend her money on frivolous things but only

looked at her and saw the opposite of himself. But she was kind and gentle. She

the absolute necessities. She wore simple gowns and never wore makeup. He

life. It always made Laurent wonder what his dreams were? Ten years had caused

cared for others and for him. And she had dreams of what she wanted out of her

aspirations for what to make of himself...and wasn’t that how he got into this

him to lose so much hope. He couldn’t even imagine what a life as a man would be again? What would he do? Who would he be? Even as a young man he had no

predicament? 

            His grandmother's words replayed in his mind. “Free from the curse you’ll be when wisdom is your

aim.” 

            He sighed as he tried to rest in Aveline's lap.

Wasn’t ten years long enough? Hadn’t he learned anything by now? And if this

long had passed with no change, what made him think anything ever would?

 

            ~

 

            Laurent stared out the heavily frosted window in

their little home. The weeks had been dragging on as winter settled onto the

land. Aveline had been gone all day and he expected her to arrive any moment

rest of the day. She had been working hard...he thought too hard. And as she

only long enough to feed him and leave for another shift that would last the

clothing and he could see the sickness and exhaustion deep in her eyes. Her face

finally returned, his fears were confirmed. She removed only one layer of her

didn’t even acknowledge them. He watched as she carefully sat down on the couch

was pale, dark circles clung to her eyes. She coughed non stop as she made her way around the little apartment and brought him his slivers of meat. But he

and laid her head back. He flew and perched beside her.

            “Oh Lou…” Another fit of coughing overtook her.

“It’s this dreadful winter but I can’t stop now, not when we are so close.” She

sat up and sighed as she put on her outer layer and headed toward the door.

“I’ll be home in a few hours.”

            Before he knew it, she was gone again. Laurent

sighed as he flew back to the window and stared out. He wished he could go with

her, watch over her as she had watched over him all these years. But the last

be a wild owl but he could defend himself against another predator if he needed

time he had left the safety of their home, he was nearly killed. He might not

he would rather not ever repeat. 

to. But men with muskets? That was an altogether entirely different story..one

            He perked up and realized that he had dozed off.

He could barely make out that the sun was setting for a severe snowstorm had

settled over the land. He took flight to join Aveline wherever she was hiding

in the apartment but after a quick sweep through he found himself to be alone.

He perched on the piano as he mulled over what it could mean. Perhaps she was

just working longer? 

            The wind blew and sent an eerie noise through the

boards of the walls. The storm was worsening, he couldn’t imagine that her employer

would keep her in such harsh conditions...especially with as ill as she had

become. 

            He waddled back and forth at the top of the piano

as he frantically waited for her to arrive. But as the minutes passed, his

sickening feeling got worse. He didn’t think she was coming back. 

            He returned to the window, unable to see out of it

anymore. What could he do? What could he possibly do as a tiny little owl in

such a terrible blizzard? And what would he do if he found her? He felt angry

almost, how could she do this to him? To herself? Didn’t she see she was

didn’t kill her tonight, her developing illness just might. Together, with a

overworking to the point of putting herself into an early grave? If the snow

warn her. Perhaps it wasn’t too late? Maybe she could still turn things around! 

setting sun spelled disaster. Oh how he wished he could run and find her and

            And yet, wasn’t that what his grandmother had been

trying to do all his life? She had waited and waited for him to change until

she knew he wouldn’t change on his own. Perhaps that was what Aveline needed

would die. And all of her dreaming, all of her hard work would be for nothing.

now? He wasn’t sure what he could do but he knew that if he did nothing, she

What good are dreams if you kill yourself trying to accomplish them? 

            What a pair they made, he thought to himself as he

began flying around the apartment, looking for any way out. One thing was

certain, he had to find her. 

            He felt a draft and followed it to the ceiling

above the rafters where he found a loose board. With a little finagling he was

able to squeeze out of it. He nearly fell to the ground before he realized he

was free and flew through the air. 

            It was difficult, but not impossible for him to

see where he was heading. He remembered the way to town from the one and only

time he had left the house so he headed that way in hopes of finding her. 

            He nearly flew into a branch that came out of

nowhere through the storm. He landed on it to catch his breath as he looked

through the park. He knew she traveled through this park for she talked about

it all the time. 

            Frantically he searched for any sign of her but

all he saw was the white blizzard covering everything.

            “Grandmother, please, if you are listening. I must

find her! I’ll stay an owl forever but don’t make me do it without Aveline!

Please…” 

            He was about to give up hope when he saw it...a

faint dash of purple in the onslaught of white. He took to the air and dove for

the color. He landed not so gently in the snow beside her. Aveline had fallen

face and then her heart to find any sign of life but with the snow pummeling

and was nearly completely covered by the heavy snow. He nestled closer to her

against her cheek hoping to wake her but nothing happened. He flew to the sky

them both, it was hard to tell if it was too late. “No, no, please!” He rubbed

again and looked around for any sign of help. But they were alone in this park. 

            Hope was gone. There was nothing more he could do

other than nestle in close so she didn’t die alone. He began to descend when a

cramp in his wings caused him to fall. He hit the snow hard and hs body ached

as blackness engulfed him 

            He wasn’t sure how long he had been out but a good

layer of snow had settled over him. He pushed himself up and looked down at his

hands in the snow.

            His hands! He sat up straight as surprise overtook

him. Was this a dream? He looked down at his hands and wrists and arms. He

patted his stomach and recognized the tunic he had been wearing when his world

had changed. He ran his hands through his snow wet hair. Laughter bubbled up in

him but it was short lived. He saw Aveline's form under the snow and dove after

her, clearing the snow off of her and pulling her up into his arms. 

            It took him longer than he would have liked to make

his way back to their home. He laid her on the couch and removed the soaking

wet outer layers. He could just barely make out a pulse as he covered her with

several blankets before leaving and starting a fire. He returned to her quickly

and joined her under the blankets and pulled her in close. Her body was as cold

would be enough to warm her back to life. 

as ice and he prayed as he waited that the warmth of the fire and of his body

            The night passed slowly as he held her in his

arms. He dared not sleep lest he awake to find her gone from him. He ran his

hand through her hair and caressed her cheek. Color was returning to her face

and her body didn’t feel cold anymore. He gently left her side to add a few

more logs to the dying fire. 

            He heard her cough, which was the first sound he

heard from her all night. He turned and saw her stirring, taking in her

surroundings. “Lou?” She asked as she looked around. Suddenly he realized how

confusing it would be to find him standing in her home. He was crouched low by

the fire so she hadn't seen him yet. 

            “Don’t freak out.” He said as he stood slowly. 

            Aveline jumped and started at him. “Who are you?”

            “My name is Laurent. I found you in the park and

brought you home.”

            “How did you know where I live? I don’t know you.”

            “Actually you do, just not by my real name or

face. I’m Lou.” He said it more like a question, for saying it out loud felt so

strange. 

            She looked at him at first like he was crazy but

then something in her face changed. A softness settled over her, one that took

him by surprise. She looked around as if to confirm that Lou was not there.

            “That sounds a little crazy.”

            “It is. But it’s true. I’ll tell you all about it.”

 

Felix’s Explanation; Excerpt from The Between Court

            “I first knew I was different centuries ago, when I was just a faeling.

            You see, my glamour manifested itself much earlier than that of my many cousins.  And it was harnessed by emotion, not instinct.  As you can imagine, a toddler certainly has enough emotion to rattle the windows….  Coupled with the magic was, well… rearing me was trying for my mother, to say the least. 

            My mother, you should know, is the sister of the Autumn King.  I grew up alongside his heirs, but without the knowledge of who my own father was.  However, for a time, it seemed fortunate I was a bastard born.  Of royal blood, I was too distant from the throne to be a threat, yet received all the comforts the princes and princesses had.  

I was definitely a likable playmate for my cousins—more so than their own siblings.  Power plays were part of their early education, and I was the perfect candidate for their practice.  They used to try to win my favor, my alliance, once it was proven I was gifted.

            Those gifts, however, as they only continued to grow, soon turned me into an enemy to all—regardless of the fact I wasn’t a direct descent to the king.  Or old enough to control the glamour.  The older courtiers would often drop subtle hints about wanting me to be in power, to disrupt the lineage.  This terrified my mother, who still only suspected why she bore a more powerful child than her brother.  

            So, when I was only fifty years old, still growing into my ears, we left court.  An old estate at the edge of the realm, one that had been gifted to her centuries ago, became our refuge.  We lived there many decades, undisturbed, by any but the servants she trusted.  It was during this time we learned the extent of my glamour—and why I was so powerful.

            You see, you and I, Acantha, are the same.  We are half breeds, fae that belong only to the border lands because of our blood.  And that makes us incredibly valuable, in spite of what we are told by polite society.  My mother never divulged to any other than me that my father was a lord of the Summer Court, because she didn’t want to be cast out by her family.  It is one thing, as you know, to be bastard born… another to be a half breed.

            The danger now, however, was that I wasn’t just a half breed, but capable of unthinkable greatness.  I, as a child, had no desire for such things.  And my mother was more concerned with my safety than putting me on her brother’s throne.  Others wouldn’t feel that way.  I would be a threat, an asset, a curiosity.  She didn’t want me to do more than live for myself.

            But, the truth came out soon enough.  

            I was just passed my first century, and itching to be free of the estate.  I missed the court we had left, the magnificent halls we had once graced.  To say I was a spoiled brat would have been an understatement—I may have been sheltered, but my sheltering had given me an ego, a sense of elite that replaced my once groveling demeanor.  No more was the faeling that cowed before his cousins.  By then, I recalled the seeds planted in my mind of usurping my king, and thought  I was worthy of such a feat.

            So when our first visitors in fifty year graced our meek manor, I was very put out when my mother sent me away to my rooms.  It was my cousin, the second oldest prince, who visited.  Being denied a visit made me impetuous.  I not only stormed out of my mother’s sight upon her dismissal, but trashed my rooms. 

            A brilliant plan came to me, eventually.  I was quite talented with transformation by then, and I favored the shape of a barn owl.  Autumnal courtiers often shapeshift, but into woodland creatures such as deer, squirrels, or foxes.  A barn owl, and other birds, are more prevalent in Summer.  My mother wasn’t surprised that that was the form I most often took.  I was only forbidden to share this talent with the servants.

            So I transformed, with plans to spy on the guest. 

            Flying from window to window, I eventually found my cousin Oakley and my mother talking in a study.  I perched at the windowsill, and listened to my cousin share gossip of the court with my mother.  He asked where I was, and she informed him, to my utter shock, that I had been taken severally ill a few years before and died.  

            I was a fool.  I thought she was selfishly denying my chance to re-enter society.  It would be years before I understood how the lie had been told to protect me from  Oakley and his kin.  All I felt was the injustice of my situation.  

            Without thought, I flew through an open window into the study.  Lighting upon my mother’s piano, I quickly caught the attention of the room’s inhabitants.  Conversation was forgotten, as my cousin jumped to his feet.  He offered his assistance to his noble aunt, offering to remove the bird from her sight. 

            Before he could cross the room to me, however, I let a talon fall upon the keys.  My mother, across the way, was frozen.  Her eyes were wide, pleading with me not to go on.  I locked my wide yellow eyes upon her and played the next note in the melody. 

            A silent ‘No,’ was mouthed in my direction.

            Paying her no heed, I launched into the song.  It was slow going with talons, but it was clear that I was playing the melody my mother composed for the Autumn court many years ago.

            Oakley watched in silent fascination for a moment.  Or perhaps it was horror.  The he hissed:

            ‘Summer scum!  They dare spy on a lady of Autumn!’

            He drew his sword, and in a ruffle of feathers, I sprung off the piano.  My hoot of panic rang through the room, drowning out the last of the piano’s strain.  The swinging sword, singing in it’s own metallic way through the air, smashed the keys I had just stood upon.

            My mother cried out for Oakley to stop, as I flew to a stag’s mounted head above some shelves.  Perching there I watched my cousin spin around and seek me out.  Mother, running between the shelves and her nephew demanded again that he stop.

            ‘Summer dares to cross our borders, dares to spy upon you!  I will have their blood!’

            ‘Oakley, please!  On my soul, I implore you to leave the creature be.  It is not as it seems.’

            Oakley, brutish as he was, did stop the swing of his sword, to hear my mother out.  She, however, looked as if she’d rather run herself through with that blade than admit who I really was.  I could practically see her trying to formulate a lie in her mind—but nothing was coming out her.  Or perhaps she was finally tired of hiding the truth from everyone.  

Either way, she gestured for me to come down.  

Feeling as though I had won a victory, I did so with bravado.  I summersaulted halfway through the air, mid transformation, before landing at my cousin’s feet, once more high-fae in appearance.  Oakley backed away though.  The thump of appreciation or camaraderie I had anticipated did not come. There was only a sneer of disdain, of disgust.

‘Felix… you live.’

I bowed to my cousin, finding the tip of a sword at my chin before I could straighten.

‘A half-blood,’ he purred, reminding me that this cousin also took to shape shifting—into a mountain lion, ‘We suspected, but didn’t dare dishonor your mother with such lies.’

Turning, he spit in my mother’s direction, ‘Father will be pleased to know he now has reason to behead his whore of a sister.’

As shocked as I was by his reaction, surprised as I was to find my mother had been right to fear the court’s reaction to my heritage, this disrespect to Mother grounded me.  It heated my anger. The feeling was a strong flame of autumn ruby and summer sapphire.  It twisted and turned around my heart, burning it to ash like the log of a fire.    

The flames poured from my finger tips in an uncontrollable wreck, that I cared not to reign over.  I simply let it destroy.

Prince Oakley never stood a chance.

Mother alone, her lullaby voice the cooling water that quenched the flames, called me back to my senses.  She was unharmed, though much of the study smoldered around the charred corpse of my cousin.  My own horror, for having so quickly lost my temper, for having taken a life, left me a shell.  

The music my mother was renowned for eventually wrung out the woe within my soul, restoring me.  Or most of me—for the boy I was, was gone.  It was replaced with a man that finally understood why I had been raised in fear.  Why I could never return to court unless I was able to play the part of an autumn lord. 

Acantha, you must understand: that is our curse and gift, we noble fae of half-blood.  We are the most powerful fae of all, because two courts call to us.  Two seasons are at our disposal to wield.  All we need do is master our emotions, and the rest is ours for the taking.  

I haven’t taken, yet.  

Once my mother explained that the noble blood of two courts was why I must hide, and why I was so powerful, the training I had only half heartedly endured before became my life.  I lived and breathed autumn and summer for years.  Decades.  But I also learned how to conceal one half of me. Though my glamour was the of two seasons, I could make it look as though only one resided within.  It was hard work, and painful—like denying one of my hands, so I could use the other.  

But I did that for my mother.  She had protected me.  I could and would make the sacrifice so she could rejoin her family.  

The Autumn Court never knew what became of Oakley.  At least not the truth.  A clumsy servant dropping coals was to blame for the fire.  And when I mastered the art of hiding my summer half, we were welcomed back to the king’s halls.  

More years passed as I played the part of advisor to the heirs of the throne, and the king himself.  I was a court favorite, all the while a wolf in sheep’s skin.  It was when I finally awoke and understood how tired I too had become of hiding my real self away, that I made a choice.  A choice to begin a new court—a court for those forced to the border lands, without a place to belong, without submerging part of their identity.  A court for those between.  

And I ask, Acantha, if you will join me in this dream.  I ask that you leave Winter and help me create the Between Court. 

I cannot do it without one of Spring and Winter.”