The Wild Swans

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The Wild Swans Page 17

by Shea, K. M.

Summer passed, and Elise worked steadily. Her hands hurt worse than ever, but she knitted with renewed determination. By the last month of summer, she had four finished shirts, and worked on the fifth with great vigor.

  Life remained the same. Prince Toril visited often. Elise’s brothers did their best to spend their hour as humans to entertain her and relieve her pain. The days were, to be honest, boring and painful but not without little bits of joy.

  Elise’s swan companion was a constant. And when Elise was about halfway through with her fifth shirt, her curiosity grew to unbearable limits.

  Previously, Elise avoided wondering which prince her swan companion was. “They’re not my foster-brothers when they get their feathers and beak. They’re swans. They can’t possibly remember, much less realize, what they’re doing,” Elise explained one summer night during her hour of reprieve to Brida when the girls were washing together for a shared supper. “I know you think it is Falk, but I disagree. It could be any of my foster-brothers. Whatever prince it is probably doesn’t realize what he’s doing.”

  “Of course,” Brida said, unconvinced.

  Elise stood by her words…until her conviction lessened.

  Her swan companion acted too human.

  If Elise happened to drop a small item, like her whistle or one of her knitting needles, the swan clamped his beak around it and carried it for her. The swan ate whenever Elise ate rather than grazing all day long like his brothers, and he was watchful. Whenever a patrolling soldier passed, or even if Brida emerged from the woods for lunch, Elise’s companion swan watched.

  What tickled Elise’s curiosity was that whenever Prince Toril visited, the swan pinched, smacked, and burrowed his way into sitting between Elise and the prince.

  Elise tried to nonchalantly watch her companion swan when he hurried back to the lake to transform, but the wily bird always made sure to dart in between a few of his brothers, and Elise lost sight of him every time. Once Elise wove a crown of flowers and linked it around the base of the swan’s neck, but he ripped it off by the time sunset came.

  Her curiosity aroused, Elise was not going to give in easily.

  This called for drastic measures.

  “Sunset is almost upon us. I’m going to stoke the fire,” Brida said.

  Elise nodded but kept her eyes glued to her swan companion, who was snacking on grass.

  “…Princess?”

  Elise gave Brida a thumbs up and pulled her legs to her chest so she could rest her chin on her knees.

  Brida hesitated before she leaned over and whispered, “Are you finally determined enough to confirm his identity?”

  Elise nodded.

  Brida smiled. “Good luck, Fürstin,” she said before she climbed the slope to the cottage and disappeared inside.

  As the last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon, Elise’s swan companion stood.

  Elise threw herself to her feet and scrambled after him.

  When the swan reached the water, he tried to paddle away, but Elise braved the cool waters and plunged in after him, grabbing his tail feathers before he could scoot away.

  She chased the swan until she was up to her chest in the water. The swan slipped from her grip then and started to paddle away.

  Elise sighed, her shoulders drooping. The swan paused and paddled back to her side. It tipped its head back and forth, studying her face. Whatever he was looking for, he must have seen, for he settled in next to Elise as the sun disappeared on the horizon.

  Seeing the transformation up close was a new experience for Elise.

  As usual, the water grew choppy, and the swan princes extended their wings into the air before they were surrounded by a white light.

  The white light had a musical quality to it. It sounded like magic, Elise supposed. It was laughter and raindrops on a lake. It had the chime of an ice crystal clinked on a frosty day and the deep toll of a cathedral bell. It was the wind singing on a mountainside, smiles, sunshine, and stardust.

  Elise held her hand out to see if she could catch a bit of the light—it fell from the transforming princes like fire shedding sparks and embers—but when the light touched her skin, it bounced off and disappeared, fading like a dying flame.

  Disappointed, but still curious, Elise looked up just as the white feathers were shed and the Arcainian princes dropped in the water, fully transformed.

  Brida was right.

  “Falk,” Elise said, her voice revealing her disbelief. In the weeks before Brida had all but said it was him, but Elise doubted a man who could spit out nicknames like “Dewdrop” as if they were poison could be sensitive enough to follow Elise like a faithful companion. It showed just how little she understood him.

  Falk, looking chagrined, brought his hand out of the cold lake water to push his goldenrod hair out of his face. “So sorry to disappoint.”

  “Hah-hah, told you she would be,” Nick said as he climbed out of the lake, his twin right behind him.

  “But I’m not, I’m not,” Elise said, first to Nick and then to Falk. “I’m just…surprised.”

  “And why would you be surprised?” Falk asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared Elise down.

  He was waiting for Elise to say because she didn’t believe he loved her. Elise could read his frustration and hurt in his dark eyes.

  Elise had underestimated him, and in a way she belittled his feelings, just as Brida predicted. She had yet to acknowledge either he or Rune, and she still acted as if she suspected he secretly hated her.

  It was unfair of her. Since Falk became a swan, he was nothing but helpful. Falk acted in her best interest through the entire trial. He was the one who organized the brothers the first night at the new pond. He found food for Elise and Brida, and he went out of his way to find plants and make salves to lessen Elise’s pain.

  And all Elise did in return was eye him and thoughtlessly declare she didn’t believe in his feelings.

  “I’m sorry,” Elise said, surprising them both.

  Falk shifted in the water. “For?”

  “For being unworthy of your feelings for me.”

  “But you are,” Falk said, his expression earnest.

  Elise chuckled, which turned into a shiver from the cold water they were still standing in. “Why, Falk?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “Why me?”

  “I know I am not Rune,” Falk started.

  “That’s not what I’m asking,” Elise cut him off. “Why do you love me? What is it about me that would make you tolerate your older brothers’ teasing and intimidate your little brother?” Elise asked, drawing closer until she was less than an arm’s length from him.

  Falk was very still, as if he feared he would startle Elise and make her run away. “Because you are fearless.”

  “I’m what?”

  “I mean…you arm yourself with whatever is necessary to overcome your enemy, whether it be knitting needles or a horse bridle. And I love the way claw at others for money,” Falk said.

  “Excuse me?”

  Falk continued, “When you were first posted to the Treasury Department, you listened to me give an hour-long lecture about grain production in a department meeting. You were the only person who never yawned and who never looked away. You listened with absolute attention and when I was finished, you asked questions.”

  Elise was not terribly impressed or moved. Falk must have picked up on her mood because he pulled at his goldenrod colored hair.

  “You don’t understand what I’m trying to say. You have a big heart, and you would never stop loving us. You are more elegant and lovely than every lady in Arcainia. I love your intelligence, and I love you. And… I love that you are warm and affectionate,” he finished, a note of longing in his voice.

  “The nicknames?” Elise said, her voice cracking.

  “What?”

  “The ridiculous names you call me: Fawn, Snowflake, Honey Cake,” Elise said.

  “Yes, what of them?” Falk said.<
br />
  “What do you mean what of them?”

  “I was under the impression those are terms of endearment,” Falk said. “Father said they were.”

  “They are,” Elise said.

  “Then I don’t understand your confusion.”

  “The way you said them…”

  “Yes?” Falk said.

  Elise hesitated, “…You really meant them?”

  “Of course,” Falk said, his sincerity shining in his eyes.

  Elise bit her lower lip.

  She had been wrong about Falk. She thought he couldn’t possibly love her, not the real her. It had to be the “perfect princess” she pretended to be that he loved. But now, even Elise couldn’t pretend Falk didn’t see the real her.

  Perhaps what was more thought provoking, was the way Elise had treated Falk in the previous months and years. Yes, he tended to sneer words, but even Rune said Falk accidentally insulted Elise whenever he meant to compliment her. How much had Falk said, and how much had Elise ignored?

  “Elise?” Falk reached out to touch a loose coil of hair that had fallen from the ponytail Elise pulled her hair back in. “All I’m asking for is the chance for you to love me.”

  Elise licked her lips and almost bit her tongue when her teeth started chattering. “Okay.”

  Falk froze. “Okay?”

  “Yes,” Elise said, making the water gush when she lunged forward to hug him.

  Falk took a shuddering breath and eased his arms around her. Elise could feel his heart pounding a mile a minute under her cheek as she linked her arms around his neck.

  Falk leaned his head against hers. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  On shore, rocks cracked as Nick and Mikk held Rune back. “You’ve gotten your moment with her, Rune-y,” Nick said.

  “Several moments,” Mikk said.

  “Now be a fair sportsmen, and let Falk have his,” Nick said.

  Elise shivered in Falk’s arms and squealed in surprise when Falk hunched over and slipped an arm under her knees. “This water is freezing. We should get to shore,” he said, carrying her out of lake.

  Elise clung to Falk’s neck as water cascaded from them. “You could put me down,” she said when the water was up to Falk’s shins.

  “Not a chance,” Falk said, leaving the water and starting up the path to the cottage. He passed Nick, Mikk, and a glowering Rune.

  Erick waited at the cottage door. “Oh,” he said, pushing his eyebrows up. “Is the dark horse taking the lead now?” he asked, speaking more to Nick and Mikk than to Falk or Elise.

  “Hard to tell,” Nick said.

  Mikk held his thumb and pointer figure an inch apart. “Just a bit.”

  Erick laughed heartily, and Falk edged past them to carry Elise into the cottage.

  Brida was waiting with towels, which she wrapped around Elise the instant Falk set her down.

  “What were you thinking, keeping her in the icy water?” Steffen scolded Falk before he threw a towel at him, hitting the younger prince in the face.

  “I thought you didn’t particularly want her to marry Rune?” Falk asked after removing the towel from his face.

  “I don’t, but I don’t particularly want her to marry you either,” Steffen said

  “Who, then, is she supposed to marry?”

  “No one. Elise is too cute to marry a brute. She can stay unmarried for life,” Steffen said, patting the top of Elise’s head.

  “Steffen, I’m not a dog,” Elise said.

  “Fine, but you cannot court anyone until you are at least 40, or married,” Steffen said.

  “How is that supposed to work?” Falk asked.

  “It’s not. That’s the beauty of it,” Steffen said.

  Rune broke his way inside, sending Mikk and Nick toppling over like wooden dolls. “Are you warm enough, Elise? Should I go find some more firewood?”

  Falk glanced outside. “I have enough light to search for some dandelions. I should make a paste for your hands again,” he said once he finished drying off.

  “I’ll come with you. We can talk while I gather firewood,” Rune said, eyeing his brother.

  “Your suitors are very useful, Fürstin,” Brida said as the princes elbowed their way out of the doors.

  “Thank you, I think,” Elise said.

  “Right, they’re gone. I can finally update the gambling pool. Mikk, you were the one who thought Falk would get through to Elise, yes? Steffen, you owe Mikk a gold coin,” Erick said, sliding a scroll of paper out of its hiding spot under a stool.

  “Bother,” Steffen tisked.

  Mikk smiled.

  “Gerhart, I’m sorry but you’re completely out of the running,” Erick said, using a quill to cross something off on the scroll.

  “Enjoy your life of wretched singlehood,” Nick said.

  “I never wanted to be in the running anyway,” Gerhart shuddered.

  “Of course,” Mikk said. “Onella.”

  “Would you stop talking about her?” Gerhart shrieked.

  “I forgot about her,” Nick said.

  “We have a separate gambling pool that Onella will or will not answer Gerhart’s feelings. Would you care to make a wager?” Erick asked.

  “Sure. I’ll put down three gold coins that she laughs and guts him to make a belt for herself when he confesses. Only strong, half-mad people work directly under Falk,” Nick said.

  “She would not do such a savage thing,” Gerhart said.

  “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is and bet on yourself in that case?” Steffen asked.

  Brida’s forehead wrinkled. “Not being officially adopted might be a lucky break, Fürstin.”

  “I agree. Who would want to be related to this pack of jackals?” Elise said.

  “That is not what I was referring to. If you were adopted, neither Prince Rune nor Prince Falk could marry you,” Brida said.

  “What?”

  Gerhart blinked. “You didn’t know that was why Father and Mother didn’t adopt you?”

  “Why would I know that!?” Elise said.

  “Brida,” Nick said, “You just ruined a portion of our fun. We were waiting for Mr. Hero or Gloomy Agriculture boy to point that out.”

  Elise tried to take deep calming breaths. “I love them all, that is why I work to free them. I love them all.”

  “Why do you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself? Have you already made up your mind on which brother you want? Elise, you are so hot-headed,” Nick said.

  “And violent reaction due in three, two, one,” Steffen said, studying his nails.

  “QUIET,” Elise growled, winding a towel around Nick’s neck and pulling it tight. “All of you stop talking about it!” she said before climbing the ladder to the loft.

  “Perhaps there is wisdom to Fürstin’s reason for not wishing to be adopted. It would take great resilience to claim a true relationship to all of you,” Brida said.

  “Truth,” Mikk grunted.

  “Elsa, Elsa, I brought you a real treat,” Prince Toril hollered as he trotted down the hill and made his way to the cottage.

  Elise sat outside with the sixth shirt, which was almost finished. Swan Falk was at her side, and he made a disparaging hiss when Prince Toril strolled up.

  “Hello to you, too, foul-tempered bird,” Prince Toril said, plopping down next to Elise. He removed a folded handkerchief from his tunic and peeled back the cloth. “Ta-da,” he said, revealing several cookies. “Go on, try one,” Prince Toril urged.

  Elise hesitantly took a cookie and bit into it. It was sweet, but there was an odd flavoring Elise never had before. She looked inquisitively at Prince Toril.

  The young man did not disappoint. “It’s a cardamom cookie. Have you had one before? No? Well, you may have them all—although I suppose you will insist on sharing with your bear-maid, won’t you?” Prince Toril said.

  Elise took the handkerchief and bowed her head at him. She brushed crumbs from her lips before sm
iling.

  “You’re welcome,” Prince Toril said, surprisingly accurate at interpreting Elise’s gestures and behaviors. He glanced at the nettle shirt as Elise set the treat aside to pick up her knitting needles again. “You’re still working on those?”

  Elise nodded.

  “How very loyal,” Prince Toril said, his voice lacking conviction and feeling.

  Elise raised her eyebrows, but the prince looked away and didn’t acknowledge the hollow sound of his words.

  Prince Toril rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know how to say this delicately, so I’m just going to say it. I leave tomorrow for a two-week trip. And no, it’s not hunting.”

  Elise thoughtfully nodded and stared at Prince Toril until his ears turned red.

  “It’s fishing, but now is the right season, and I want to go! If you’re afraid Father will do something to you while I’m gone, you could come with me. I mean, it would be highly improper, but gossip doesn’t seem to bother you anyway,” Prince Toril said.

  Elise set her knitting aside. Prince Toril’s absence was a grave thing. She couldn’t go with him—it wouldn’t be practical to try and lug seven swans and all her knitting across Verglas—but the idea of staying in the cottage left her uneasy.

  “I’m sorry, but I want to go,” Prince Toril said, his voice colored with guilt.

  Elise studied Prince Toril. She didn’t despise him for his selfishness. It merely showed how immature he was. He did his best by her, and Elise suspected it was very difficult to be raised by King Torgen.

  Elise patted Prince Toril’s knee in sympathy.

  Prince Toril looked at her with wide eyes. “Ouch,” he said when Falk nipped him.

  Elise placed a hand on Falk’s soft, feathery back before she resumed knitting.

  “Is there a reason why you love these wretched birds so much?” Prince Toril complained. “Because I have to say they’re a downright nuisance.”

  Elise looked up from her knitting, and the prince hurried to retract his statement. “I mean, they seem like marvelous pets for you. They match your grace and, um, beauty. Ouch! Would you stop that?” Prince Toril said when Falk bit him again.

  Elise soundlessly laughed, which made Prince Toril pull a lopsided grin. “OW!” he said when Falk got him again. “Blasted bird!”

 

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