The Firebird

Author's note: What happens, when an unsuspecting servant girl stumbles upon an old king's most cherished possession? For our third story, we're traveling back to a medieval castle, where a king has kept a rare treasure hidden away in a secret room for untold years. In The Firebird, we explore the themes of what it means to be valued, altruism and reincarnation.

The song was coming from beyond the wall.

Sapphia craned her neck to listen, pressing her ear to the stone. It was a high, faint whistle, like nothing she had ever heard before. She abandoned her duties and searched the unremarkable masonry for a gap. What could be making such a rueful sound?

She had to know.

This room had belonged to the old King before he passed away. He'd frequented it every evening, and insisted it was cleaned each morning. But the King was dead. Now, a new King had ascended the throne. His son, who was accepting the crown in the city, and would soon return to lay claim to his personal estate.

So, the headmistress had Sapphia working long hours to banish the dust from every surface and linen, along with the rest of the maids who scurried about the castle in anticipation for their master's arrival.

Everything had to be perfect.

But the mysterious song would haunt her until she found its source. She could find no gap, nor loose stone to indicate a passage, and leaned against the bookcase in defeat. A hidden notch beneath her arm gave, and she threw herself back to witness the heavy fixture sinking into the stone wall. A little gasp escaped her as a dark passageway opened up like a great black maw.

What trouble she'd be in if she could not put the wall back!

But excitement overshadowed even the most scathing of the headmistress's lectures. There was someone through the darkened hall, and their song was enchanting.

How could she ignore it?

Sapphia stole a candle from a nearby sconce and stood at the entrance for a time. She listened for any footsteps in the hall behind her, but there were none. So, she descended into that darkness that consumed all but her small flame.

It railed against the stale air, struggling to survive.

Sapphia was careful not to breathe at all for fear of disturbing the melody.

Anticipation quickened her silent steps until she came upon a thick wooden door that had aged in the total darkness. The song was louder here, echoing through the narrow passage and sweeping her up in its doleful whistle.

Briefly did she imagine it could be a ghost. She cast off the silly notion with a scowl before easing open a heavy door.

The whistling ceased abruptly.

A muted gasp escaped her and she dropped the candle. It hit the floor, sputtering wax before promptly dying. Sapphia couldn't comprehend exactly what was inside the cage, so she clung to what she understood. It was a bird aflame.

No, she thought, her eyes wide. Not aflame.

Sapphia did not need the candle any longer, because the bird's long, luminous feathers banished the darkness. Even the ones that had fallen were still glowing softly at its taloned feet. It had sad black eyes as it stared at her through the golden bars of its cage.

"Was it you?" she asked quietly, already knowing the answer. With more confidence, she stepped over the candle and approached the bars. It was caged, what could it do? Sapphia remained several handspans away, but she sank to the ground in a billow of skirts and simply watched the enormous bird. "You have a beautiful voice," she whispered. "Why are you down here, all alone?"

It stared at her, unblinking, but the music didn't come.

The creature was larger than any bird she'd ever seen, so that she didn't know if it was truly a bird at all, or some great falcon from ages past. A lone relic. But it had wings and an impressive plume of long tailfeathers. And in its dark eyes was the gleam of intelligence, of curiosity and sorrow.

Down here, it couldn't even see the sky.

Sapphia was at a loss. If this bird was one of the old King's treasures, then he'd told no one about its existence before he died, leaving it to starve down here. The wells in the cage were empty, picked clean so the scored gold shone in the light of the bird's feathers.

"You're hungry," she said.

She didn't expect it would answer, but purpose flared inside of her. "I cannot stay any longer, but can you wait one day? Tomorrow, I will bring you food." It had been a fortnight since the old King had passed, and he was infirm for many months before that. Surely one more night would not be fatal to the magical bird.

"Forgive me," she said, rising and adjourning with haste.

A fluttering coo escaped the bird, and she shut the door tightly. The kitchens were locked at night, but when they gave Sapphia her rations the next day, she would save them for the incredible creature. As she eased the bookshelf back into place, she discovered a single feather tucked away in her apron, still glowing softly in the dim light.

*

Sapphia descended into the basement with greater ease, her skirts filled with pastries and bread and anything she could steal from the kitchens. She triggered the bookshelf and slipped into the narrow passage, listening hard for the song of the firebird.

But all was silent.

She hoped she wasn't too late, but when that heavy door opened, a new sort of shock filled her. She almost dropped her carefully hoarded rations at the sight of him.

Rather than a bird, a man with long glowing hair inhabited the cage.

His naked form was powerful, but he leaned against the bars as if sitting up exhausted him. His eyes, though, were that same intense pitch she remembered. Surprise and trepidation mingled inside her, but she ignored them both and knelt at the foot of the cage. "Here," she said, spilling her haul through the bars. "-just as I promised."

He leaned forward, so they were close, closer than she should have allowed.

The man might have slipped an arm through the cage and grabbed her by the collar. No one would hear her screams down here, if he decided to harm her. Her mouth went dry when she tried to swallow, but his dark gaze merely scoured her before he stole a crust of bread and gnawed on it, his eyes never leaving her.

She laughed breathlessly and leaned back on her heels. "You are hungry."

He responded by stealing a hunk of cheese.

Sapphia smiled and scooted closer to the bars. "I wish I could have brought you more, but this is all they let me have. The chef says I'm too small to eat so much."

His luminous hair cascaded down his strong back in brilliant rivulets of light. There was no mistaking that he was the same creature that had graced the cage the night prior. Maybe now, he could tell her why he was trapped down here.

"Oh!" she said, pulling out a waterskin. "I almost forgot."

This time, she offered it directly to him.

He gave pause and stared at the waterskin before reaching for it. His hand wrapped around hers, igniting her flesh with frisson that chased up her arm. Her breath caught as she pulled away, surprised that her fingers were still tingling.

The creature didn't seem to notice Sapphia's reaction, his throat working as he drank down her offering before turning his appetite back on the dense block of cheese, which he ate with ravished intent. But soon, he slowed and savored the meager meal, his focus more intently on her.

The sorrow in his expression had abated.

Sapphia was lost in his gaze, taken by the flames that burned softly behind his eyes. But his nudity distracted her. She'd seen men naked before, guests of the King who insisted on being bathed like stubborn children. But they paled in comparison to his sleek and potent form.

When he leaned forward, every muscle worked in perfect harmony.

He was a true specimen of man.

This time, when an arm slipped through the cage, he caught her wrist and dragged her in. Sapphia's next breath was ragged, but she didn't dare scream. She'd rather take her chances with him than the cruel headmistress. A fiery blush chased under her skin and prickled in her cheeks. The man leaned in as if to tell her a secret.

Then, their lips collided.

There were sparks behind her eyes, and she was blinded to all but the taste of him. A hot tongue lashed into her mouth, but it was the heat in her core that made her moan. Something roiled there that had never existed before, something deeper than passion and broader than love. She couldn't even begin to describe how it filled her limbs with fire and burned away any lingering doubt.

But the kiss ended too soon, and the lights faded from behind her eyes, leaving the luminous man, resting languidly against the bars. Her embarrassment was small, muted by the fact that the man was trapped. A dead King's prisoner. Her vision cleared, and she searched for a lock or a door on the cage, but there was none.

His smile was wane, like he understood her frantic searching and found it amusing. There is no point, his look seemed to say. As if he was resigned to his fate as a caged beast.

"No," she protested under her breath. "This isn't right."

But the cage yielded no exit as if it had been built around him. Her teeth ground together as she tugged at one bar, and then the next, searching for a weakness in its construction. Surely, he'd done this, himself, night after endless night, but still she tried.

When she finally slumped to the floor, a hand clasped hers. It was warm and soft and reassuring. "This is wrong," she reiterated, daring to look up into his tranquil eyes. "You should be free, not locked away in a cage!"

He pressed his forehead against the bars, and she stroked the tawny flesh of his hand. Everything about him was enchanting. Just touching him excited the little hairs at the base of her neck.

Her lips brushed his again, and she inhaled his sigh. "I'm sorry," she whispered, drawing away as the chill air gripped her. There was nothing she could do. He let her go without struggle, his keen eyes following her all the way out of the room.

When the bookshelf was restored to its rightful place, she wept until daybreak.

*

Exhaustion brought to Sapphia a strange sense of clarity.

She was merely ill-equipped to unfasten the cage on her own. If she could get her hands on the blacksmith's tools, the gold would bend with ease, and he'd be free. She kept her head down and trundled through her tasks as quickly as they permitted.

Dodging the headmistress's scrutiny, she ducked outside and around the building, finding the furnace unmanned. Two sets of tools she absconded with, a pair of pliers and an iron mallet. Either one might do just fine, but she wanted to be sure. She hid them among the fallen leaves and waited until the moon was high to gather them.

Her excitement could barely be contained.

Soon, he'd be free. She hoped he'd fly far away from this place and never return. Sapphia would be satisfied with such a conclusion, because all would be right again. The firebird didn't belong in a basement, languishing until the end of time.

It was that vision that kept her moving, despite her deepening fatigue. She could rest when her task was done, and no sooner.

Still, she had to wait until nightfall.

Sapphia was nearly asleep, leaned against a broom, when the dinner bell rang. She startled, wildly alert, and found her way to the tools she'd hidden. While everyone else ate in the great hall, she eloped to the room with a secret door, and slipped through.

The new King would be returning tomorrow, so they only had tonight.

She wasn't concerned at what would happen once the cage was open. It was the furthest thing from her mind when she entered the room, finding the bird still in human form. She hesitated only briefly, swallowing down her apprehension. He had not chosen to be locked away naked, and in hindsight, she should have brought him a robe or tunic.

But it would all be over soon.

The tools were dull in the gleam of his fallen feathers as he watched her hammer and ply away at the bars until sweat beaded on her brow and she was screaming in frustration.

She fell on her rump in defeat, still clutching the pliers.

He sat across from her. No sadness in his eyes tonight, just resignation.

Sapphia would not abide. She could not, in good conscience, now that she knew he was down here. Despite her exhausted limbs, she rose to try again, her sprit aflame with purpose.

In his sitting position, he cocked his head and watched her curiously.

She gritted her teeth and summoned all her strength, driving the mallet down on the bolted framework crushing the stone beneath her feet. If the cage would not budge, then she would find another way.

The man's eyes widened when the stone gave in bits and pieces.

All evening, she hammered away, sweat stinging her eyes. Even the man shielded his face from bits of flying stone that broke away. But when the dust finally settled, her labor had borne fruit. The cage remained sturdy, but the bolts had come undone, and with a little effort from him, they were able to pull the cage up enough to set him free.

They let the cage drop with a clang, and he rose to his full height.

Sapphia stared up at the man, the firebird in human form, and froze at his formidable presence. He stood taller than most men, his golden hair draped over his shoulders in lazy rivers on either side, cutting over his solid chest.

She licked her parched lips. "You're free," she whispered, the fatigue of several sleepless nights catching up with her. The mallet dropped from her trembling hands, and she slid to the floor. "Go, before someone sees you. There is a window in the adjacent room."

He cocked his head as if confused, then knelt beside her.

Without a word, he touched her forehead, sending warmth through her rattled limbs. When she opened her eyes again, the world was made brighter by his smile. She couldn't help but smile too, forgetting where they were for a moment.

His hand slid to cup her cheek, his every touch kindling her tired soul.

She cupped his hand in turn, enjoying the heat of him radiating through her. And when he leaned in to kiss her, she accepted with sweet relief. She had never known true purpose until she'd heard his mournful song through the wall, and was satisfied to know that he was free. "Go," she insisted with more urgency. "We don't have much time."

He did not go.

Instead, he hoisted her into his arms and carried her out of the room. It was as if he knew the inner workings of this castle better than she, and brought her to a long divan that sat beneath the window she'd spoken of.

All else fell away but his gentle visage.

His thumb stroked the little cleft of her chin, then he pressed his palm against her heart. Sapphia was not afraid to touch him, for she knew their time together was coming to an end. She stroked the velvet flesh of his cheek, watching his eyes flicker to the sky outside.

"How long has it been?" she asked.

His jaw clenched, and he sighed before pressing his lips to her forehead one last time. That's when he stood and, in a flare of blinding light, a bird tested its wings in his stead. She watched with fascination as he spread them wide for the first time in what must have been years, then bolted through the window to drift lazily among the stars.

When he became no more than speck among them, she fell fast asleep.

*

A flurry of activity woke her, followed by the shaking of her shoulders. A cruel, wrinkled old face was the first she saw. The headmistress, with her brow furrowed into a knot.

"What have you done?"

Sapphia had no words. She didn't know where she was.

But the realization slowly grew on her, that no one had bothered to shut the secret door, and they must have found the empty cage and the stolen tools. All she could remember was how he spread his wings in the moonlight, and cut a path of fire through the sky.

She was shaken again by bony hands.

"She is an idiot," someone hissed. "See how her eyes remain unfocused?"

"That is not for me to decide," said the headmistress in a furious tone, standing and clapping her hands off. "The King will be returning shortly. I will let him deal with her."

Someone dragged her to standing, a heavily armored guard who had no consideration for her cracked hands and spent limbs.

They locked her away in a room until the King was ready to see her. Someone left a crust of bread and a glass of water for her, which she didn't bother to touch. She was just glad they did not make her beat the dust from the rugs again.

Maybe there were no more rugs to beat.

Sapphia knew, to some degree, that she should be worried. But they had not witnessed such a miracle that she had, and she was still reeling from his soothing touch. She craved it again, knowing that he was long gone.

As he should be.

With that assurance, she slept easily until they came to get her.

This time, their faces were not angry, but grim. Had someone died? Sapphia found the notion amusing, that perhaps the new King found misfortune on his way home, and they had cleaned the castle for naught.

That was not the case, however, when she was dragged to the throne that was filled with a slender youth, his soft face marred by a deep frown. "This is she?"

"Yes, my King," the headmistress said, bowing deeply and attempting to back away as if Sapphia's guilt were contagious. The guards surrounding them prevented it. "We had broken for the evening meal when she disappeared, or I would have noticed sooner."

The King's cold blue eyes fell on her again. "Do you know what you did?"

A bright smile lit up Sapphia's face. "I freed him.

"I couldn't, in good conscious, leave him to wither away in that terrible cage!" Though the King let her ramble, his nostrils flared as she did so. "It must have been months, since the King died-"

"There is only one King," he interrupted. "And that is me."

All in attendance bowed but Sapphia. The guards would not allow her with the way they gripped her between them, but she had no desire to, either. This man, this boy king, no long held any authority over her. She didn't know where the defiance stemmed, but she liked it.

Her exhale was hot. "He was starving-"

"He was mine," the King growled. "And you have released the most valuable treasure in my kingdom. I should have your head removed for your insubordination, alone. But this?" A laugh escaped him, but it was not of humor. It was short and hard, like a punch to her gut. "This reaches beyond mere disobedience. Your family will suffer for the crimes you committed."

Sapphia buckled with old grief between the guards, though they held her steady.

"She has no family," the headmistress confessed, looking down on her with disgust. "She was an orphan your father imposed on me many years ago, and she has worked here ever since."

"Then I will have to consider a fitting punishment.

"Take her away."

*

Her fingers were beginning to heal when they dragged her out of the cell. They hadn't bothered to bathe or feed her, and she didn't know how long it had been since she'd seen the sun. Was it like this for him?

No, she thought, he was prized. I am unwanted.

She had entertained herself with thoughts of how they would do it. Drawing and quartering seemed painful, but quick. But if she had a choice, she would prefer to be beheaded. She had heard the pain only lasts a brief moment, and one doesn't have to witness their own organs strewn about the grass.

But when her gaze alighted upon a tall pyre erected on the lawn, she realized her death would not be quick or easy. Sorrow weighed down her limbs as they dragged her forward.