Chatterbox: Inkwell

The 12th Kingdom

My Midnight Release Story! I started it on midnight New Years.

This is what I have so far. I can't tell you all about it right now, because my mom is telling me to get off, but here it is:

The 12th Kingdom 

Chapter One

~~

Sunlight filtered through the dusty windows, illuminating Princess Sparrow as she walked slowly down the hall. Her hands quivered slightly as they brushed over the rough tapestries, feeling the long-gone beauty from the many hands that had rafted them. The hall was beautiful, too—a thick red velvet carpet ran down the whole hall, and golden candlesticks were placed in every window. But if you looked closer, you would see that the tapestries were full of holes, the carpet was covered with a thick layer of dust, and the candlesticks were chipped.

Sparrow brushed her long, wavy brown hair away from her eyes as it fell out of her bun. She almost always wore her hair up like that; it didn’t get in her face so much.

She turned her attention back to the tapestries, thinking of how pretty they used to be—before the prophecy, before her mother died, before the war.

They were at war with the elves, and had been ever since Sparrow was five—and she was twelve now. In between then and now, the castle had fallen into disrepair, the kingdom had fallen into a famine, and Sparrow’s mother had fallen into the endless pit of sleep from which no one ever wakes.

That was two years ago. Sparrow remembered it like it was yesterday.

A small tug on her sleeve brought her back to present time. She turned to see a short man in green robes standing at her elbow, blinking slowly out of his round spectacles. “Your Highness, it’s time for your history lesson….” He said, his voice quivering. Sparrow smiled. “Thank you, Master Brendon. I had forgotten.” He bowed as far as he could, but then appeared to hurt his back and slowly shuffled back down the hall, still slightly bent over and with one hand on his back.

Sparrow watched him go. Master Brendon was old. Some said he was over one hundred, which was indeed a respectable age. He was her tutor, which her father King Jerome would not have allowed, except that Sparrow had pleaded with him. She had said that she needn’t learn things like needlework and etiquette when she could be learning useful things like math, science, and history. The kid had been reluctant to let her have a tutor for those things, but after she had continued to pester him about it, he had given in. Sparrow could be very stubborn when it came to things like that.

She realized she was keeping Master Brendon waiting, and hurried down the hall, her green skirt swishing behind her.

The room he taught her in was small; only a table and two chairs, and a bookshelf filled with thick, heavy books furnished the room, but it didn’t need more. The furniture was all made out of a hard, solid wood, light in color. Master Brendon was sitting in the chair on the far side of the table, with a stack of books in front of him. He looked up from a small red book when she entered.

“Come in, come in. Close the door behind you. We don’t want drafts coming in.” Sparrow closed the door, sat down in the chair opposite from him, and leaned her elbows on the smooth, round table. “What are you teaching me today?” Master Brendon smiled, his fluffy white beard twitching. “We’ll be studying the Crinenean Era today.” Sparrow nodded and took the little notebook he offered her, then pulled a piece of charcoal out of the little pouch at her was it—it was leather with little embroideries of flowers, a present from her father—and opened the notebook to a fresh page.

She always took notes when she was reading or listening to Master Brendon. It helped her remember later, and it also just kept her hands busy. She couldn’t stand sitting and doing nothing. Neither did her mother—had her mother. Many afternoons, they would try to sit down and sew—Sparrow’s stitches always turned out lopsided and too big—but then they would end up running through the woods behind the castle together, laughing and playing. Sparrow’s heart ached as she thought of it.

“Miss Sparrow? Are you listening?” Sparrow looked up. “Oh! I’m sorry, I suppose not.” Master Brendon gave a faint smile. “It’s too nice of a day to be studying. Go out and enjoy the sunshine. I’ll just give you some books for later….” He turned to the bookshelf. Sparrow pushed her chair back with a loud scraping noise and stood up. Then she put her charcoal back in her pouch and patted her bun to make sure it was secure.

Master Brendon piled a stack of books and scrolls onto the small table. Sparrow took them one by one into her arms as he told her what they were. “That book is for practicing your sums, the large blue one is the history for you to review tonight—Section Five contains the chapter on the Crinenean Era—this book is for you to read, for your science—and these scrolls are for you to translate from the Old Language."

Sparrow staggered under the weight of the books. “Are you sure that’s not too much for you, Princess?” Master Brendon sounded concerned. Sparrow swayed a bit, then planted her boots firmly on the wood floor and shook her head. “I can manage.” He nodded uncertainly. “Alright….” He opened the door for her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Sparrow tightened her grip on the books as she walked back down the secluded hall. Her arms already burned from the weight of the books, although she had only been carrying them for a few minutes. 

Presently the hall curved sharply and she came to a wide flight of steps leading downward. The grey stone they were made of was worn smooth by the many feet that had walked on them. Large windows lined the sides, paned with pretty stained glass. It was completely quiet as Sparrow walked down the steps, admiring the way the light fell through the stained glass to create red and blue patches of sunlight on the steps. Her gaze wandered, following the bits of sun—and as she looked away from the steps, she put her foot down and slipped.

Her books flew out of her hands, scattering papers everywhere, and she tumbled down several steps before coming to rest at the foot of the stairs.

She quickly glanced around the small, empty room at the landing to make sure no one had seen her. There were so few people there anyway, but just in case….

No one was there, and Sparrow slowly stood up. Her skirt edge had gathered itself around her knees, and she smoothed it back down.

Miraculously, she hadn’t hurt herself. But her bun had fallen down, so she pinned it back up with trembling hands. Then she slowly and carefully climbed back up the stairs to collect her books. As she bent over, a voice from the top of the stairs startled her.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing you before tomorrow, then, Princess Sparrow.”

Master Brendon descended the stairs and rested a hand on her arm. “Let me help you. I knew I gave you too many books for you to carry.” 

“No, no—I’m fine, really—“ Sparrow protested. Master Brendon shook his head and gathered up a few books. “Come, I’ll help you bring these to your room. Don’t say no.” Sparrow blew out a breath and picked up the rest of the books. Master Brendon could also be stubborn at times.

They walked back down the stairs together, and turned into another hall. It was more of a corridor—smaller and shorter than the other one. Five doors down on the left side was her room. Sparrow set her books down on the floor for a moment and opened her pouch again. She rummaged around for a moment, then pulled out a key and inserted it into the little lock underneath the ornate handle.

~~~

Tell me what you think!