Free Sword Mountain by Nancy Yi Fan

were to let go of her breath, she felt that whatever it was that held her in the air would disappear. Hadn’t her mother told her that she needed a special force to defy gravity and soar? Dandelion knew she herself had none of the power. It came from Cloud-wing—his compassion, confidence, and courage coursing through the rope and lending a moment of magic to her wings. She knew she would never fall with Cloud-wing holding on.
    â€œSee?” Cloud-wing said. His eyes sparkled. “How does it feel to fly?”
    Dandelion didn’t have to answer. There was a candle glow in her heart.
    Cloud-wing beamed. “We’re just hovering now. There’s lots more to see!”
    Dandelion was amazed. “Go farther out? I’m not sure if I can stay aloft that long.” The archaeopteryx scars on her shoulders began to ache.
    â€œJust a little more,” he assured her. “We can have more lessons, but you’ve been here for weeks, and you haven’t had a proper tour of the Castle of Sky.”
    He pointed to each of the four towers crowning the castle. “The north one, facing the wind, is the king and queen’s. Their chamber and his workroom are there. The south tower is Prince Fleydur’s study. The eastern tower is Forlath’s. The western tower is the watchtower, where the soldiers go, to look out from the heart of the mountain range.”
    Only the watchtower was lit. Where has the royal family all gone? thought Dandelion.
    Cloud-wing pointed out the banquet halls, libraries, offices, the wing for guests, and the wing for the castle staff. Then, lowering his voice, he gestured at the foundations of the castle and told her of the dungeon. “It just runs around the perimeter of the foundations, because kings past wanted the throne room in the center to sit upon stone and earth, not above criminals,” he explained. “The dungeon walls are twice as thick as the rest of the castle, and damp with slime. There is not a single window.”
    â€œIs anybird shut in it now?” Dandelion asked.
    â€œNone, at least nobird we remember,” he said. “It’d be awfully lonely, and a bird could be easily forgotten in that dark.”
    Dandelion shivered. She observed the castle again. Lights shone from many of the windows now. Dandelion noticed that Cloud-wing had overlooked one of the brightest. “And that?” she whispered.
    â€œThe windows of the audience chamber,” Cloud-wing said. “The brightest room of all. It’s where the Iron Nest holds its assembly.”
    It all clicked in Dandelion’s mind.
    Fleydur will ask the court to pass his proposal! she remembered. “Tonight Fleydur will be there,” she said.

Music and poetry can’t be repressed;
They’re needed for birds to be whole.
Poetry’s always the speech of the heart,
Music, the tongue of the soul.
    â€” FROM A SONG IN THE O LD S CRIPTURE

9
C LASH OF W ORDS

    A ssembly! Assembly!” called the herald into the antechamber. “Prince Fleydur is here to present his proposal.”
    Bang! Bang! Bang!
    Some of the ancient advisers of Morgan resented Fleydur, similar to the way Olga resented Dandelion. But instead of banging doors, they banged books. Slamming down the heavy volumes some of them were pretending to read, the sixteen advisers tottered toward their usual places—readily seen because of a shiny hollow in the floorboards each had worn from standing in the same place year after year. To them, any change was like a burp, best surpressed as a matter of good taste. They glared at Fleydur, who stood alert in the center.
    â€œDid you read the details about the music school he wants to build?” one whispered. “For the life of me, I cannot imagine how I am to suffer through all his unrealistic, nonsensical—”
    â€œHush—here’s the king!”
    The advisers straightened, standing in two rows like chess pieces upon the