“YOU LOOK LIKE you’ve been in a war zone.”
Ash stops pacing when Cypress strides into his room. He glares at her. “How are you even allowed to keep coming in here?”
“And here I thought I was doing the right thing, taking pity on you.” Cypress flings her long legs over the arm of his couch. “Cedar wasn’t arrested today.”
“Thank God.” Ash sprawls across his armchair. “What happened? I heard a second instrument.”
“Justice Carpenter’s son, Linden. No one is in a hurry to take the flack for arresting him.”
Ash springs from the armchair “That won’t last long. He might as well have declared war on his father. Or Koshluk.” He glares at her again. “Hasn’t my father banned me from visitors?”
Cypress shrugs and swings her legs to the floor. “I’ve saved the necks of more than a few of your guards.” She stretches her arms out along the back of the couch. “Though after my reception today, I doubt I’ll want to visit again.”
“Why are you so giddy? I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Why are you not?”
Ash runs a hand over his unshaven face, not wanting to admit the relief he had felt when Cedar’s cello had been destroyed. “Damn it, Cypress, don’t you see? I brought her into this mess. It is because of my selfishness that she is here.”
“Don’t be so bloody arrogant.”
Ash’s head jerks to look at her.
“Probably you were selfish, but she is not someone you need to save. Do you think so little of her that you presume she isn’t capable of making the same sacrifice you keep pathetically trying to make?”
Her words sting, but they hit their mark.
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“She told me she is acting according to her principles. And to remind you of your pact,” Cypress says.
It is like the sunlight breaking through a dark and stormy sky.
“She said that,” Ash says.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“A while ago. Back in Sapphire City.”
“She has freely chosen,” he says. “You might have told me earlier.”
Cypress shrugs. “I’ve never been good at playing messenger.”
“No. I don’t suppose Cedar realized your aversion to taking orders.” Ash laughs. He is weightless for the first time since he left the cabin in the forest.
~ . ~ . ~
CEDAR PLACES THE cello in its case. The rich scent of the recently worked and varnished wood permeates the air. She runs her hands over the smoothness of the instrument. The door to the showroom opens.
“I had a visitor last night.” As expected, Linden is here.
“What did they say?”
“They will not arrest me for my naïve actions of yesterday morning. Their words. Likely their understanding is my father’s doing.”
Cedar latches the case and lifts it from the work table.
“You have done so much for me Linden. Thank you.” She turns around to face him.
Linden is holding his violin case. She looks at him, mouth open.
“I rather enjoyed myself,” he says.
“They’ll arrest you!”
He chuckles. “And they won’t arrest you?”
“You said Danbarrah isn’t yours to fight for.”
“It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to abandon the most courageous lady I know.”
“You don’t have to do this for me.”
Linden raises his chin. “Maybe I have to do it for myself.”
~ . ~ . ~
CEDAR NOTICES THE increase in activity on the streets. People watch her and Linden as they carry their bulky instrument cases toward the Palace of Rubies.
There are more guards posted at the outer archway, but they do not stop them as they walk past.
An audience gathers inside the courtyard. The noise of voices trickles to whispers. All eyes fix on them as they walk to the center of the courtyard where Cedar places her stool. More guards are stationed around the perimeter. Some glower at her, but others smile and nod a greeting, looking eager.
Basil puts a restraining hand on the same particularly irate guard. She must be causing Basil no end of trouble by being here, but he nods at her.
She adjusts her cello. She sits on her stool with the instrument resting against her. She looks around again at the crowd. These are her people. They have been living in fear, cut off from music’s power. These are the people her parents lived among, played music alongside, and told stories to. She can give the people gathered here today that which she hopes her parents have, wherever they are now.
She looks at Linden, who tucks his violin under his chin. She gives a slight nod and places her bow on a cello string.
They play for only a few moments when an old man hobbles towards them. He leans heavily on a young girl who walks by his side. He stops beside Cedar and takes a small object from his pocket. The young girl wraps her arms around his waist to support him. He raises the object to his mouth with trembling hands. The calming hum of a harmonica slides aptly in beside their strings.
Then a boy, no older than twelve, approaches with a hollowed-out wood cylindrical bowl. A piece of animal hide is stretched over the top. His face is streaked with dirt and his clothes are worn. When he sits on the ground with his drum between his legs and places his hands on the homemade instrument, his drumbeats pulsate seamlessly with the rhythm of their ageless score.
Linden skips a note. Cedar looks and notices two guards closing in on them. Whatever immunity Linden had given her has run out for them all.
Cutting off the approach of the closest guard, an elegantly dressed woman glides towards them. Her shoes click against the stones and her jewelry disperses diamond fire. She stands beside Linden and withdraws a reed-shaped instrument from a deep pocket of her flowing dress. The piccolo is polished to a shine. Its appearance is nothing compared to the sound she draws from the instrument with her breath.
Looking flustered and angry, the guards retreat to their posts.
The musicians skirt around the ending and circle back to the beginning to play the song a second time. The sounds of their instruments join together in one of those rare meetings of musicians who perfectly understand the story of their music. The story of Danbarrah, of its history, of their dreams for their country’s future, is woven into the way the notes sing.
Cedar pulls the bow across the strings with the final note, but it is not enough. For the first time, she plays something else. She does not know where the song comes from or where it is going, but it comes leaping off her bow onto the strings without a preconceived idea to guide it. The other musicians are not deterred. One by one they find an entrance for the voices of their instruments.
A nearly imperceptible tremor passes through the stones that make up the ruby courtyard and palace. Even the stones cry out for music.
~ . ~ . ~
“IT’S A MIRACLE she hasn’t been arrested.” Ash moves his piece on the game board.
“The guards are divided.” Cypress counters his move with her own. “Amaryllis joined the musicians this morning, and no one dares to touch her without King Orion’s direct orders.”
Ash studies the board. “What’s preventing him?”
“He’s not here. Diplomatic visits in Koshluk.”
Ash moves his piece, which Cypress counters.
“He gets daily briefings, doesn’t he?” Ash tilts his head, looking for some new perspective on the game.
“Most of the palace secretaries were hired by the Queen.”
Ash looks up. “They haven’t told him?” His eyes widen. “They are against the ordinances?”
“Your move.”
“Why haven’t they done anything?”
“What do you want them to do? Risk their necks to delete an email from King Marcus?” Cypress gestures to the board. “Your move.”
Ash glowers. He rests his fingers on a game piece. “He really has no idea what has been going on?”
“King Orion banned the internet outside of palace use. Slows communication. Are you making that move?”
Ash moves his piece.
Cypress takes it out with one of her own. “Are you even trying?”
“You’d think someone would have told him.” Ash glances at the boarded window. It is dark outside, not that it makes any difference to him.
“They want to see what will happen. Whether they are for or against, it’s interesting.”
Ash says nothing.
“You are wearing your dagger again. I haven’t seen you wear that for years.”
The guards did not hesitate when he requested to have it retrieved from the schoolroom tower. Such an object is too integral to the customs in Danbarrah. Besides, his guards do not fear an attack, only an escape.
A knock sounds at the door before Ash can think of how to explain his new sense of hope. A palace secretary steps inside.
“King Orion has returned,” he announces. “You are to expect a visit in the morning.”
Ash and Cypress look at one another, their expressions grim.
“They want to see what will happen? We’re all about to find out,” says Ash.
~ . ~ . ~
CEDAR SETTLES HER stool on the ground as Linden withdraws his violin from its case. The courtyard is choked with people. They spill out onto the streets. The sun rises later every morning, and the courtyard is still in shadows, but she can hear the commotion between the guards. The exasperated tone of their voices carry through the air. They stand in clusters. In one group of guards, one guard shoves another. A voice from another group is becoming louder.
Cedar places her bow on the strings and focuses her attention. The moment she begins to play, a stillness comes over the courtyard.
Linden and Cedar play as before, beginning with the same song. The same musicians from the last morning play with them. New musicians join in. Cedar does not count how many, but they are all here to play for Danbarrah.
She thinks of Calla and hopes she and Lily are safe with the Governor. She thinks of the Governor and his desire for the courage to act. She remembers Finch and Slate, and Slate’s family, and she plays for wherever they are. She thinks of Star, and of her neighbour, Rose. She thinks of Grandma, and old resentments dissipate in the music. Grandma had not wanted music to be a part of her life, but Cedar knows she is where she should be. She thinks of the people of Danbarrah, banned from music. She thinks of the freedom her people deserve, and she plays for them.
She finishes the score. Again, she cannot bear to end. She wants to hold onto her connection with the music, with Ash, and to all that is unfolding.
She places the bow back on the strings and again draws out a melody of her own making. This time, the rest of the musicians pause in their accompaniment. They form a protective circle around her as she plays. This is her song. It sings of longing.
Connected as she is to the music, she is given a sudden piercing glimpse into the crowd of performers and listeners. Sons and daughters of powerful families are among those in this courtyard orchestra. Some of the guards are willing to sacrifice everything to ensure Cedar can continue to play. Others plot against her. They are angry about the risk she causes them. King Marcus is not one to shy away from vengeance.
High on a tower balcony Cedar sees a figure watching her. She somehow knows: it is King Orion. The King gestures angrily at her, and a man beside him shrugs. The unknown man is moved by the music. The King has erected a shield around himself. The music does not affect him. She realizes she plays in this courtyard for the last time.
She watches him turn and storm back into the palace. Cedar lifts her bow at the end of the song. She defiantly returns it to the strings to play again. She will play until the end.
~ . ~ . ~
ASH HEARS THE door open but does not turn from where he stands at the boarded window.
“Order her to stop.”
Ash turns. The King and his assistant stand behind his couch. His father’s fingers sink into the couch’s fabric.
“You think I have that power?” Ash says, half amused. His heart is lighter, and his father’s sour mood can do nothing to darken his spirit while Cedar plays. She has played longer than usual this morning. Even now the sound of her instrument continues, easing his loneliness. Though his arms ache to hold her, his heart and soul are full of her.
“She is doing this for you, she will do as you ask,” King Orion says.
“Ah, that is the catch. She does it for me, yes, but also for the millions who inhabit this island. Will you have them all ask her to stop? Perhaps that will do it.” Ash almost enjoys taunting his father.
King Orion growls low in his throat. “If you will not stop her, then you force my hand.”
Ash is silent, some of his merriment falling aside. King Orion stands where he is, breathing heavily.
Ash strides over to his father and faces him squarely. “You still keep your name. Why?”
King Orion’s face turns red. He knows exactly what Ash is asking. Why keep a name that speaks of your loyalty, when you are betraying your country?
“This is the name she knew me by.”
Ash knows what he means. “She wouldn’t know the man you have become.”
The words land the same moment the song ends. It is a crushing thing to say. It has taken him so long to voice the thought. Ash is well aware of his own failings, but he suspects any remnant of his father that might have been able to rise from the ashes was snuffed out long ago.
The King sinks onto the floor, and moans. Ash watches his father with wide eyes but without pity or regret. Another moan is drawn from his lips. His body begins to heave with soundless sobs.
The music begins again, a fresh score. Ash feels the pull of it, beckoning him.
Other musicians accompany Cedar’s cello. Ash hears a violin, and then another one. There is an oboe, and a flute – a full chorus of sounds.
Then, all the other instruments die out. The cello begins again, this time alone. It begins with long, deep notes, calling out in sorrow. Before the listener despairs of finding the way out, the notes begin to climb higher, moving in great leaps, faster and faster until at last, there is release at the top. Ash breaks into a smile with the joy of it. Even here, locked in a room by his father, he feels the fullness of life.
When the music stops, the fullness remains, but he craves more. The entire world around him seems to ache with him, and he feels a tremor pulsate through the stones of the palace walls.
As the tremours die away, the King rises. The expression on his face is achingly familiar.
“Go.”
“What?” Ash stares at his father.
“I will do what I can to protect you, though I do not know how long I can hold King Marcus off.” King Orion’s eyes are clear, though worry pulls at the corners. He turns to his assistant, who has watched everything from his silent place near the door. “Escort him out, and give the order to the guards. The musicians are free to go.”
Ash wastes no time. He heads to the door and the assistant follows him out. Ash moves just slowly enough to hear his father’s words spoken aloud in a distant wistful voice.
“It is time to finish what you began, Azalea.”
~ . ~ . ~
CEDAR FEELS THE stones tremble for the second time. The entire courtyard of people barely moves even once the tremours pass away. Cedar has yet to return her bow to the strings.
Silence reigns in the courtyard until it is interrupted by the sound of a heavy door closing. A gasp and a murmur spread through the crowd. Cedar rises to see what is happening, hand wrapped around the neck of the cello. Even standing, she is too short. Linden stands beside her, tall enough to look over the heads of those surrounding them. She looks at him for an explanation, but he only smiles and takes a step back.
People are moving aside to let someone through.
“Cedar.”
A new song begins in her heart and spills out from her in the sound of laughter.