“Fiona.”
She stopped and looked at him. “What?”
“That boy, Moth. He lives with an old man. Do you know him?”
“His name is Leroux,” said Fiona sharply.
“I hear that he’s unwell.” Her grandfather reached for the wine decanter. “Find out how he’s doing for me, please.”
Fiona wrinkled her nose at the request. “Why?”
“Because I want to know.”
It was her grandfather’s way of telling her their conversation was over. It didn’t matter, though—she would be late for Moth’s party if she didn’t hurry.
CASTLES
DOWN IN THE DARK STREETS of Calio, the unseen clock in the clock tower struck its midnight chord. A golden moon hung directly over the Governor’s mansion, lighting the gardens around the house and making shadow puppets out of the blooming flowers. The mansion stood apart from the rest of the city, perched on a small hill in the newer part of town. A five-foot wall of brick circled the mansion and its gardens, covered with crawling ivy. Thick enough for a person to walk across, the wall offered stunning views of the city and the Reach, and Fiona had quickly discovered the best spots for daydreaming.
Moth enjoyed sitting on the wall. He enjoyed being alone with Fiona, hidden from the mansion’s prying eyes by the tall ash trees of the garden. When he heard the clock chiming in the distance, he realized they’d been sitting and talking for hours.
“Midnight,” he whispered. He looked over his shoulder back toward the mansion, peering through the garden to see if anyone was waiting there. The mansion was surprisingly quiet. The occasional echo of a voice reached them from the streets, but the city was mostly asleep. “Should you go inside now?” Moth asked Fiona.
Fiona shook her head. She’d been quiet the whole night, even at Moth’s party. She stared out past the mountain, toward the Reach. The red scarf Mrs. Jilla had made Moth for his birthday clung around her shoulders. Though summer had come to Calio, nights on the mountain were always chilly. Fiona still clutched a small sack in her hands. She had held tight to the sack the entire night. Moth was starting to think it wasn’t a gift for him at all.
“Good party,” he said, wanting to make Fiona smile. “Good cake.”
“It was,” said Fiona absently. “Too bad about Leroux.” Her brow drooped a little. “He’ll be all right, you think?”
“He’s just tired,” Moth assured her. “Once he gets some sleep he’ll be fine again.”
The party had broken up earlier than expected. Leroux’s coughing fits had forced him to bed. After that no one talked about anything else. They had tried to move the gathering onto the balcony so as not to disturb Leroux, but it was far too tiny even for Moth’s small group of wellwishers, and Mrs. Jilla warned it might collapse.
So Moth walked Fiona home.
Turning thirteen wasn’t the event he’d expected. Diggy’s crash had marred the day, and he was worried about Leroux, but there was something else bothering Moth.
“Thirteen feels a lot like being twelve,” he said suddenly. “Is that how it was for you, too?”
“I don’t remember,” said Fiona. “I don’t remember much of anything since my parents died.”
Moth didn’t want her remembering that day anymore. He wanted to save her from it. “I thought I’d be a squire by now, like the other boys my age.”
“There’s still time,” said Fiona. “You have friends at the aerodrome. They can help you.”
Moth shook his head. “You have to be highborn for that. Like you.”
“I’m not so highborn.”
“Money, then,” said Moth. “The rich boys get to be squires.”
“Skyhigh’s not rich,” Fiona pointed out.
“Yeah he is. He must be. He just doesn’t care about it. All he wants to do is fly.”
“Sometimes that’s the most important thing,” said Fiona. “You have to want something bad enough.”
Moth laughed. “That’s what Leroux says.”
He kicked his legs anxiously against the wall. It really was late now, and he was sure Fiona would be in trouble.
“Won’t they come looking for you?” he asked.
Fiona smirked. “My grandfather? He’s asleep by now. Or working. He doesn’t care. He only brought me here because there was no one else to take care of me. We had a fight about it over dinner.”
“Oh,” said Moth, understanding. “That’s why you’re so quiet.”
Fiona refused to look at him. “At least you have Leroux. He loves you like a real grandfather.” She choked back a laugh. “Crazy old man!”
Moth chuckled. “Yeah.”
“And that bird! Where’d he find that thing?”
“Lady Esme?” Moth thought for a moment. “I don’t rightly know. He never said.”
“I’ve never seen anything like that bird in all my life. Not even at the zoo. Those weird eyes, the way she looks at folks. And gumdrops? Crazy!”
“Leroux loves her. They’re always together. He spends half his pension looking after Esme.”
“Really?” Fiona’s expression grew dreamy. “He’s gentle with you both. You’re lucky, Moth.”
Moth had never considered himself to be lucky, especially in the shadow of Fiona’s grand home. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I am lucky. I don’t know what I’d do without Leroux.”
Fiona slipped an arm around his shoulder. “You worried about him?”
“No,” lied Moth. “That’s not what I mean. I’m gonna have to leave here someday, try to learn flying somewhere else. Won’t do me any good sticking around here if no one lets me squire. We’ll both be on our own then, Leroux and me.”
“This is where the real flying is, though,” said Fiona. “This is where you belong.” She brightened suddenly, saying, “Hey, listen. There’ll be more airships coming soon, I’ll bet.” Her voice dipped low. “Some governors are coming here to meet with my grandfather.”
“Governors? Where from?”
“From all over, I guess. They’re coming to talk about the Skylords. My grandfather’s already getting ready for them.”
Moth was excited about the airships but perplexed about the meeting. “That doesn’t make sense. What’s the big danger all of a sudden? I don’t get it. Why is your grandfather getting everyone so worked up? Stories about the Skylords have been around forever. Why worry about them now?”
“ ’Cause he’s wild in the head,” declared Fiona. “He had everyone back in Capital City talking about it. That’s why they sent him here—to protect us from the Skylords.”
“Leroux once told me the Skylords are beautiful,” said Moth, recalling the tales the old knight told him. He let his gaze linger on the Reach. “I don’t think he’s afraid of them.”
“Did he ever tell you what they look like?”
“Once.” It had been years ago, when they’d first met. “He said they look like angels.”
“See? Crazy.” Fiona watched the distant mists as she spoke. “He never crossed the Reach, Moth. No one has. No one can. It’s too big.”
“Leroux doesn’t think so,” said Moth. Deep down, he wanted to believe Leroux’s tales. “If no one’s been across the Reach, how do we know what’s there? Dragons, maybe, like Leroux says.”
“And unicorns and mermaids,” laughed Fiona. “Right.” Yet she couldn’t bring herself to look away from the Reach. “Look how far it stretches,” she whispered. “Sometimes…”
She stopped herself. Moth elbowed her to go on.
“Tell me.”
In a joyless voice, Fiona said, “I don’t want to be here anymore. I hate it here. Sometimes I think about just walking off into the Reach and disappearing. I’d walk and walk and just let the mists bewitch me until I was lost. No one would ever find me if they came looking.”