“Nannerl!”

Then I saw him, his hair tussled and his shoes stained with dirt, hurrying down the stairs as fast as his small legs would allow. He kept one hand pressed against the side of the wall. I waited until he reached me, then grabbed his hand tightly and began to head down the stairs.

“How dare you run away in front of Papa and Mama,” I said breathlessly. My fear had overwhelmed me, and it emerged as anger. “How dare you pull away from me like that, right before our guests.”

“I wanted to see the top of the tower,” Woferl repeated, bewildered at my temper. He glanced over his shoulder, back up to where the stairs vanished into darkness. “I heard her, Nannerl. Someone locked away at the top of the castle. Hyacinth said it is the princess! I wanted to show you.”

Hyacinth said. The young princess, trapped in the castle’s highest tower. I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out, only the silence that now roared in my hollow chest. So, Woferl did speak alone with the princeling. Hyacinth was whispering to him.

What was Hyacinth doing? Why wasn’t he telling me the truth? What was he saying to my brother in his dreams, when I was not there to hear it?

I grabbed Woferl’s arm. “Tell me what Hyacinth has been saying to you,” I demanded.

He tugged against my grip. “He asked me if I like being in the kingdom.”

There was more than that, I could sense it, but my brother either didn’t want to tell me or didn’t seem aware of it. “Woferl, stop,” I insisted. “We’re not going up there.”

“But Hyacinth wants us to go.”

“You shouldn’t listen to everything he says.” My words were hushed, as if fearful that the princeling would hear them.

At that, Woferl gave me an incredulous look. “But I trust him, Nannerl. Why don’t you?”

He was so genuine in his words that it sent a chill down my spine. How frequently had Hyacinth been visiting him? I thought of the spark of envy I’d felt at Woferl’s bedside, followed by my deep guilt. Now the two emotions tugged again in my chest, coupled with fear. I swallowed, looking up again at the dark steps rising above us, dreading the sight of a slender silhouette.

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” I told my brother.

“Of course it’s safe,” he argued.

“Let’s go,” I said firmly.

“But I heard her up there!”

“No, you didn’t,” I said, when I found my voice again, only the voice I found was a hoarse scrape of my own.

“Yes, I did!” Woferl protested. His hand began to squirm out of mine again, but I grimly held on.

“You didn’t see anything, and you didn’t hear anything.” My voice grew louder, more frightened. Hyacinth’s words rang in my mind. “I will not have any more of your mischief today. You insulted me in front of our parents.”

Woferl scowled. “I heard her, Nannerl, I promise I did. She was behind a heavy door that I could not open.”

I ignored him. The music surrounding us grew louder, more discordant. I am trying to protect you, Woferl, I thought frantically, although I still could not be sure what I was protecting him from. All I knew was that I had to get him back down to the safety of the real world. We had to leave this castle on the hill.

“Why won’t you believe me?” Woferl started to pull his hand out of mine once more.

This time I yanked on his arm more harshly than I wanted to. He stumbled on the steps and fell, hitting one of his knees hard against the stone. He started to cry.

I stopped and pulled him to his feet, too afraid to console him. “You heard nothing, do you hear me?” I cried out. “You’re just a child. The Kingdom of Back isn’t real. None of this is! Now stop, before you cause trouble again.”

Tears streamed down Woferl’s cheeks. “But you said we would always go together into the kingdom!” he said. “You said our stories were for us! Our secrets!”

“They are just stories for children! And perhaps you’re still a child who loves his childish secrets, but I am no longer one! Now, you will grow out of this silly phase and forget about all this nonsense—or do you want everyone to think of you as a little boy forever?”

Nonsense. It was my father’s word. My brother looked as if I’d slapped him. You are a child, I’d told him, and I am not. The sky outside had slowly begun to lighten again, losing its red cast, and now I could see my brother’s eyes clearly. They were wet, but behind that was anger. I glanced down at his knee. The fall had scraped a patch open on his leggings.

“Keep your own secrets,” he said. He rubbed his eyes. “I will never tell you anything, ever again. If you go back to the kingdom, go alone and never return.”

With that, he yanked his hand out of mine and hurried down the stairs without me. I opened my mouth to call out to him, to apologize for my outburst, but it was too late.

Woferl’s cruelty descended as swiftly and fiercely as his affection. Later that night, I discovered that the pages in my music notebook had been rummaged through. When I flipped through it to the second to last page, where I’d written my first measures of music, my first secret, I found that the page had been ripped entirely in half.

I ran my finger along the frayed edges, then clutched the notebook to my chest and wept.

A DREAM NOT LIVED

Starting the very next morning, woferl no longer allowed me to watch him as he composed. He did this by letting Papa become his sole companion by the clavier, and Papa would tell me not to stand idle when I could be helping our mother with something. Woferl did not confide his stories in me at night. When we prepared to sleep, he would simply turn his back to me and pretend not to hear my words. He no longer replied when I mentioned the Kingdom of Back.

Perhaps he had taken my outburst to heart, and did not believe anymore.

I took my compositions and folded them into my heart, writing now in complete solitude. Finding the moments to do so became more difficult without Woferl’s help, the way he would quietly leave the ink and quill for me at the clavier. I had to be more careful with the precious few moments when I was alone. I would write a few hurried lines before hiding it all away with my other secret papers, sandwiched between the bottom layers of clothing in my belongings. But when I composed a piece that excited me, I had no one to share it with.

My secrets were mine alone now. And I could blame no one but myself.

I kept expecting to see Hyacinth with each passing day—standing in the corner of our inn, smiling at me from our audience, hiding in the shadows of the streets. Fear crept into the crevices of my sleep. I wondered what he would do now that I had broken my promise. Seek revenge, perhaps. Rob me of my ability to compose, or steal my sight so that I could no longer play the clavier. Perhaps he would take it out on my brother instead. Bleed the pink out of Woferl’s cheeks until he faded away one day with the morning light.