Free The Bird and the Sword by Amy Harmon Page B

hands over his short arms and sturdy legs, my own way of asking him if he was okay.
    He laughed and slapped gently at my hands.
    “I’m fine, Bird.”
    I wanted details and specifics about his quarters and his keep and how he’d spent his time since we arrived in Jeru, but his eyes roamed my rooms as if reassuring himself that I too had been well cared for. The king stood back, letting us have a moment, but his presence made me uncomfortable, and he seemed unwilling to leave us alone.
    I showed Boojohni the book and the letters the king had drawn, and carefully wrote my own name on a clean sheet so I could show him my name. I pointed to the word and pointed to myself in excitement.
    “Lark? Is that how you write Lark?” Boojohni asked, smiling.
    I nodded emphatically. He took the quill from my hands and wrote a B, one of the few letters I knew from before, and patted his chest. I knew there must be more to his name than just a B and beckoned to the king impatiently, tapping the letter.
    “She wants ye to write my name, Yer Majesty,” Boojohni offered, though the king seemed to understand perfectly well what I desired.
    “Are you named for the lake in the Drue Forest, beyond Firi?”
    Boojohni puffed his chest in pride. “I am. There are many creatures in the Drue Forest.” He looked suddenly uncertain, as if the king might send soldiers to set the forest on fire, rooting out said creatures, but King Tiras simply nodded and began to form the word. I watched in fascination as the letters became two, then four, then eight. Boojohni had a magnificent name.
    I focused on each letter, assigning a sound to each one, though I wasn’t sure I did it correctly. I closed my eyes and the word trembled behind my lids, Boojohni’s name set free.
    “What?” Boojohni asked, and my eyes snapped open, making the word pop like a soap bubble.
    Boojohni was looking at me oddly. Then he looked beyond me, to the door of my room. He waited, as if listening, and bowed to the king.
    “I think I am being summoned, Majesty.” He looked at me then, “I’ll be back, Bird. I promise. I’ll ask every day.” He looked at the king almost fiercely, as if daring him to refute.
    “You may come back,” the king said, his tone mild. “But you will have to be accompanied by a guard, Troll. I don’t want the little lark to fly.”
    Anger licked my skin and Boojohni bowed slightly, agreeing to the demand. Then he hurried away, and I watched him leave, fighting off despair. He’d only just arrived and now he was gone again.
    “What do you want to learn today?” the king inquired softly, and I swallowed the emotion in my chest, willing the tears to slide back down my throat and extinguish the angry fire in my belly.
    I turned determined eyes on him and touched my lips. His brow furrowed, creating black slashes over his narrowed gaze. I felt a surge of confusion and something else, something I couldn’t name, lit the air between us.
    I touched my lips again, adamantly, and pointed to the letters. His brow smoothed subtly.
    “You want to know what they are called?”
    I nodded and cupped my ear as if listening.
    “Their sound? You want to know what sound each letter makes?”
    I released my breath, my frustration easing. I nodded again.
    Tiras spent an hour saying the name of the letters and repeating their sounds, his lips pursed and humming, my eyes trained on the shape of them and on the texture and the tones he created. I could only repeat the noises in my head, but I nodded and moved my mouth as he moved his, writing the letter as he said the name. He was patient, remarkably so, considering his gruff nature, and I wondered if he would be as patient if I could ask all the questions in my head. I couldn’t, so he raced through the names and sounds, only pausing when I scowled or tapped at a letter insistently, making him repeat it more slowly. When he started to pace like a restless lion, I abandoned the table and the careful crafting of