The Shining Falcon

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High over Kirtesk, the prince's city, a falcon sported in the clear sky—a falcon like no other, glinting bright in the sun, silver in the morning light.

Below, leaning gingerly out of a window in the white and gold royal palace, old boyar Semyon, chief of the princely council, eldest of that noble lot, craned his head back to watch, and gave a wry, amused little smile.

«How like his father he is! Escaping from the court like this, if only for a time—our Prince Finist may be a wise young man, wise in statecraft, wise in magic, but sometimes the wind does call to him!»

Across the smooth, paved square, another watched that flight. Ljuba, lovely Ljuba, hair a knee‑length fall of burnished gold, eyes deep and lustrous blue, royal Ljuba, cousin to the prince, stood at a sheltered window in her own small palace, staring after that falcon with eyes which blazed with undisguised passion.

God, to fly like that!

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