But the no-longer-a-boy-boy-king could not be mollified. “I must leave this palace,” he declared.

“Did you not hear me? I said it won’t be long—”

“Arrange it now!” he demanded.

“But, just days—”

“NOW!”

Governor-Advisor inclined his head. “And where would the king like to travel?”

“Home.”

Home.

It took some time for Governor-Advisor to understand what the king meant by home, but at last the king was tucked in a carriage with cushions and a small staff following after. It was the longest he’d traveled in… well, a very good long while. Still—he hadn’t journeyed more than a few miles when his eyes fluttered closed. The bouncing of the carriage was so comforting. And with every mile that passed, the sound of the girl’s singing grew quieter. Under the creak of the wheels, he could scarcely hear it at all. For most of the trip, he reclined in pillow-soft, cradle-rocked sleep.

Only when they began to draw close did he try to stay awake. “Are we there yet?” he asked his driver. “Are we there?” Finally, yes, they were nearly there. Lifting himself from the pillows, he watched the landscape glide past. He was pleased to see all the improvements that had been made under his rule. The road was straight. The trees had been cleared. The land was no longer wild and unkempt. How much more civilized it had become. No vines, no underbrush, no moss, no ferns. The swamp was contained in straight waterways—gloomy pools made ordered and neat. He admired how open everything was—open and dry. Almost golden, he thought. Even the smell… he sniffed. No. It had none of the damp scent of mud and green he remembered from his childhood. It smelled instead like heat, like the swamp had been baked. Like its underside had been cooked. Dusty swamp cake.

Swamp cake. He smiled. He liked that.

My mother must like this, too, he thought. How pleased she must be, everything so polished and fine.

His smile became a half smile. His mother. How long had it been since he’d thought of her? And now he would see her! He was surprised he had not realized this. In an idle kind of way, he wondered if this was why he had wanted to travel home. Did he want to see her? Perhaps he did.

Bouncing along in the carriage, he watched the beige land sweep past. Yes, he thought, half smiling. She must be pleased.

No one but a maid was awake to greet them when they finally arrived. Lantern in hand, she led the king through the halls. Even in the flickering light, the king could see all the refinements that had been made—the marbled floors, the gilded cornices, the gem-riddled friezes—and he half smiled again thinking of his mother’s long-ago wishes. But as the maid opened the door to a new wing, he stopped her.