I tilted my head at him. “That’s not helpful at all.”
“Isn’t it? You know where it is. You’ve seen it before. You’ve been there.”
The twin moons hanging silver in the sky. The blue seashells dotting a white beach. A feeling of wistfulness crept over me then, as if I were thinking back on a place I’d once known. I looked at his feet, expecting to see sand between his toes.
“Where did it come from, then?” I went on. “This place both near and far away?”
“It’s been around since long before you or me. Everyone has seen it in some way, you know, although most will not remember it.”
A deep longing lodged in my throat. “Will I get to go there again?”
“Perhaps. I heard your wish,” he said, repeating what he had told me in the music room. “You want to be worthy of being remembered. By your father, by those your father regards highly. By the world. You’re afraid of being forgotten.” He studied me curiously. “That’s a large wish for a Fräulein to make. Why are you so afraid?”
My thoughts snapped to my father, how he would look away from me in disinterest if I did not play well. His talks with Mama, the whisper that followed me down the Getreidegasse.A husband,a husband.I thought of fading into the light so quietly that my father might never notice. If I could fill our family’s coffers... If I could create with the voice of God given to me, my father would not forget that I was here.
The voice of God.I thought of this boy’s beautiful words, the music of his voice that trembled on the air of my dream, in that strange and vibrant place. That was it, the perfect sound.
At last, I met the boy’s eyes. “Papa once told me that if nobody remembers you after you’re gone, it’s as if you never lived at all.”
His smile widened at that. He looked like he had heard every thought unspoken in my mind. “It’s immortality you seek, then,” he said. “You burn with the ambition to leave your voice in the world. You fear your father will forget about you if you cannot do this. All your life, you have ached to be seen.” He leapt off the clavier, then came to sit beside me on the bench. There, he leaned over, reached out his arm, and touched my chin with his cool, slender fingers. A sigh emerged from his lips. “Oh, Nannerl! You are an interesting one.”
“Interesting? How?”
“Your need to leave a memory of yourself long after you have gone. Desire is your lifeblood, and talent is the flower it feeds.” He gave me a sideways look as his hands sought out the clavier’s keys. He began to play a soft melody I did not recognize. It was so lovely that I found myself touching my hand to my chest, steadying myself against the sound. “I can help you... but first, we must play a little game.” His grin widened, childlike in its delight.
My heart lurched in excitement and fear at his words. “What kind of game?”
“You have your desires, and I have mine.” He leaned his headcloser to me. “You want immortality. I want my throne.”
At last, he was finally answering my question. “Is that who you are, then? A king?”
The faeries floated around him, their light glowing against us as they kissed his skin.A princeling, a princeling,they whispered, filling the air with the word.Princeling of the forest.
“My name is Hyacinth,” he said.
Now I remembered the faeries calling his name the night before. The blue of his eyes certainly matched the flower.Hyacinths,my mother had once pointed them out to me at the market, and I’d brushed my hands against their clustered blooms.Hyacinths are the harbinger of spring and life.
“What happened to your throne?” I asked him.
The boy named Hyacinth ignored my question. His expression had suddenly shifted from mischief and mystery to something tragic, a flash of sadness that cut through his trickery. It disappeared as quickly as it had come, but the ghost of it lingered at the corners of his face, pulling me closer to him.
I looked at my notebook. “And why did you take this?” I asked.
He started to play again. I breathed deeply at the music. “You made a wish, Nannerl, and so I have come to you. You’ll discover that your notebook will now serve you in more ways than simple lessons at the clavier. Use it as your path to me. You can always find your way to me, Nannerl, if you speak to me through your music.”
If you speak to me through your music.I imagined this boy listening to the secrets in my heart, his eyes peering through the web in the woods. His hand taking mine and leading me down an enchanted forest path.
“What way is that?” I asked him.
“Why, to my kingdom, of course,” he answered.
Hyacinth’s words reminded me of my brother’s question from last night. “You say you seek your throne. Are you the guardian of the kingdom, then?” I whispered.
He turned to me with his secret smile. His eyes glowed against his skin. “I amyourguardian, Nannerl. Tell me what you want. I will find a way to give it to you.”
Tell me what you want.
No one had ever said those words to me before. A slow, creeping cold began snaking its way down my fingers, until my arms grew heavy with numbness. The boy’s eyes hypnotized me.
