The Wild Swans

by Shea, K. M.

  Elise’s lip curled in disgust as she cast her knitting needles aside and shook out the seventh cape.

  A guard moved to put Elise’s six shirts on the wood at her feet, but when Elise stretched out her hand, he draped them over her arm.

  “She has on her person burial shrouds knitted with foul intensions and made with the stems of the Stinging Nettle. We have no doubts of her crimes,” King Torgen said.

  Most of the Ostfold citizens hung back in the city square, but several of the more blood-thirsty variety crowded to the front.

  “Burn the witch! Burn her!”

  “Let the fire crack ‘er bones!”

  What a terrible place. No wonder the assassins guild is legal, Elise thought as she strained her neck and looked in the sky for seven white swans. Where were they?

  “As you know, the penalty for practicing black magic is to be burned at the stake in accordance with the law, the burning is being held in a public place for all to see. Are there any objections?”

  “Burn her! Burn her!”

  “Death to dark magics!”

  “No witches allowed in Verglas!”

  Only a few citizens shouted insults, but the rest of the crowds knew what speaking out would mean. So they watched Elise with sad eyes that expressed their sympathy and terror.

  Elise wanted to hate them for refusing to question their king. But when she glanced at him, his revolting smile made her shiver, and Elise supposed it was too much to ask for a people who were ruled by him.

  “Then let the burning commence,” King Torgen said, gesturing to a soldier who held a torch.

  Elise listened for the flapping of wings. Instead, she heard a very familiar shout—the one Brida uttered during her sword exercises.

  Brida lunged at the soldier, her silver sword flashing in the morning light. The soldier dropped the torch when he dodged the blow. Other guards moved in, engaging Brida in combat.

  “It’s the witch’s minion. Restrain her!” King Torgen said.

  Brida kicked a guard in the kneecap while blocking a blow from another. She elbowed one man in the throat and swept a leg back to smash a soldier in the face. It was little more than a brawl, but Brida was winning.

  The crowd murmured, watching Brida fight tooth and nail. In all likelihood, no one had attempted to rescue one of King Torgen’s victims before.

  “I said restrain her,” King Torgen repeated, growing testy.

  More soldiers left their post to help their comrades in the scuffle.

  Elise gaped at Brida as the determined female fought her way to her. The captain used every piece of her body to fight back. She head-butted one soldier, bit the fingers of another, and kneed a man in the stomach.

  Eventually the soldiers gave up subduing her and used sheer numbers to drag her down. Before Brida hit the ground, she drew a dagger from her belt and threw it to Elise. A soldier tackled her when she made the throw, so her aim faltered, and the dagger hit a log near Elise.

  Elise reached for it, but it was too far away. She tried reaching out with a bare foot, straining to grasp it with her toes. It was still too far away.

  “You, get a torch and set fire to the witch,” King Torgen said, grabbing a soldier who was helping one of the men Brida lashed out at.

  “But—,”

  “You question me?”

  “No, Sire,” the soldier said, grabbing another torch.

  Unlike the other torch-bearer, this soldier hurried. He thrust the torch into the kindling and tinder, which caught fire immediately. The lower logs were smeared with animal fat and lamp oil, so the kindling flared into a fire faster than usual.

  Elise started to sweat as she strained against the ropes, still reaching for the dagger. The straw used as the tinder produced a lot of smoke, and it burned Elise’s eyes and throat. Her eyes teared up as she struggled through the haze to grab the dagger. The heat of the fire started to warm her feet when the first swan burst through the smoke.

  Steffen.

  Elise stared, but when the swan flew past her Elise gave up on the dagger and threw a shirt at the bird. It hit him, but Elise didn’t see what happened after as he disappeared through the smoke.

  Elise could hear the crowd gasp and shout, but she was watching for the next swan, huddling as close to her stake as she could while the fire crept up the logs.

  Two swans appeared next, flapping their wings and bringing a breath of clean air with them.

  Nick, Mikk.

  Elise threw the shirts, and the swans disappeared.

  Elise covered her mouth with an arm, tears streaming down her face from the smoke. Her eyesight was so blurred she almost missed the next two swans. They swooped in from opposite directions, and one passed close enough to brush her extended hand with the tips of his wings.

  Erick, Rune.

  It was a stretch to hit both swans, Elise almost missed one but the swan dove into the shirt before disappearing in the smoke.

  Seconds after they passed through, the smallest swan flapped past. Elise tried throwing the shirt, but her strength was leaving her as the heat licked at her skin and the smoke robbed her lungs.

  The swan veered after the shirt. Elise couldn’t be sure what happened after that.

  Gerhart.

  Elise couldn’t stop coughing, and the smoke blinded her. She reached out, her arm extended and shaking, the shirt dangling from her finger tips.

  Falk, where was Falk?

  Elise tried to keep the panic down as her arm trembled. The heat was unbearably painful.

  Something tugged the shirt out of her fingers, and Elise let go before she sagged against the stake, the ropes wrapped around her waist holding her upright. The air was hot. It hurt to breathe in, and the smoke rattled in her chest and burned her throat.

  She hoped it worked. She hoped she broke the curse, but she couldn’t see, and she couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the hungry fire.

  The flames hadn’t yet reached her, but the heat was agonizing. It was a thousand times worse than knitting. Elise thought she would be boiled alive, but suddenly she wasn’t alone.

  Rune, dressed in white, cut through the ropes holding her to the stake. His hair was tousled and his face was streaked with dirt, but in Elise’s eyes he was the most glorious thing she had seen in a long time.

  Rune was human in daylight.

  “I’ve got you,” Rune said, tossing the bindings aside before he scooped Elise up and leapt from the pyre.

  Elise coughed as she breathed in clear air. She clung to Rune as someone poured buckets of water on them, soothing Elise’s pink, burned skin.

  Rune held her upright as she sagged, unable to regain her breath as she hacked and coughed.

  “Elise, breathe shallowly,” Erick instructed, placing his cool hands on her forehead.

  When Elise was able to draw air without shaking, someone hugged her.

  “Elise, you did it,” Nick grinned.

  Surrounding Elise in a ring of white were the Princes of Arcainia. Steffen, Nick, Mikk, Erick, Rune, Gerhart… and Falk.

  Tears streamed from Elise’s eyes. “You’re free.”

  “Thanks to you,” Steffen said.

  Elise started crying in earnest when her foster brothers pressed in around her, hugging her, wiping soot off her face, and thanking her.

  “Guards, seize them all! Clearly the girl has freed these evil demons with her work,” King Torgen shouted.

  “Father?”

  King Torgen swiveled, his face growing stormy when a small party of men rode into the city, Prince Toril in the lead. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “That woodland witch you brought back from the forest has unleashed a curse,” King Torgen said.

  Prince Toril dismounted his horse. “Elsa isn’t a witch,” he said as he made his way through the crowd, heading for Elise.

  When he neared the ring of Arcainian princes, Rune appeared behind him and held a dagger to the prince’s throat. “Take another step closer to her,
and you will breathe your last,” he warned.

  “Rune,” Elise said.

  “Be still, Buttercup,” Falk said, taking Elise’s hand to hold her still.

  “See?” King Torgen said. “Witchery!”

  “Silence,” Steffen said. Unlike King Torgen, who spoke with anger that welled up from his belly, Steffen’s voice came from his chest. He sounded regal and commanding, and his eyes were sharp as he stared at King Torgen like the evil man was nothing more than a tadpole.

  The Ostfold city square was quiet, except for the crackling of the raging fire.

  “What—,” Prince Toril started, even though Rune still held a weapon to his throat.

  “I am Crown Prince Steffen of Arcainia. You have almost succeeding in killing my beloved baby sister, Fürstin Elise. I am close, very close to the edge of my temper. One wrong word to me or my siblings, and I will bring your country to its knees,” Steffen said. Although his voice was hushed the words carried clearly over the crowd.

  When no one moved, soldier, citizen, or otherwise, Steffen nodded at Rune, who removed the dagger from Prince Toril’s throat and pushed the young man away from them.

  “How do I know you are who you claim to be?” King Torgen said, the feverish light shining fiercely in his eyes.

  Steffen smiled. It wasn’t his charming portrait smile. It was a smile that made Elise afraid. “Would you like us to repeat, line by line, every good Arcainia provides Verglas and every debt you owe us?”

  King Torgen said nothing.

  Erick cleared his throat and spoke next. “We require a change of clothes for our sister, horses, food, and weapons for transport.”

  “Done,” King Torgen said, looking at several soldiers, who departed to gather the goods.

  Prince Toril looked back and forth between the Arcainian Princes and his Father. “I don’t understand. Aren’t you going to stop them?”

  “Quiet, Toril,” King Torgen said.

  “No, why are you so frightened? Yes, it looks like you were doing something bad, but they’re just from Arcainia. Arcainia is a small, feckless country. We have nothing to fear from Arcainia,” Prince Toril said.

  “Quiet,” King Torgen said, clenching his meaty hands into tight fists.

  “So, you don’t know?” Nick said, folding his arms across his chest.

  “Know what?” Prince Toril said.

  “Arcainia practically owns Verglas,” Gerhart says. “We bought up all your national debt. If we call it in, you are sunk.”

  “It’s no surprise he doesn’t know. We tried to downplay our power. It’s the only way we could keep Loire clueless,” Erick said as he studied Elise. “Feeling better?”

  “Yes. Brida,” Elise said, her mouth thick with the taste of smoke.

  “Right. The valiant soldier. Nick, Mikk,” Erick said.

  The twins stepped forward and yanked Brida from the clutches of Verglas guards, who surrounded her.

  The captain joined Elise and her foster brothers.

  “Water, Fürstin?” Brida said, offering Elise a flask.

  “Thank you,” Elise said, taking it and drinking. The water was stale and lukewarm, but it felt wonderful on Elise’s raw throat.

  “I will take Brida and retrieve the horses and whatever supplies we can salvage from the cottage,” Nick said, glancing at the captain.

  Brida nodded.

  “Be careful,” Erick warned.

  Nick and Brida disappeared into the crowd.

  “Elsa, I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Prince Toril asked as he made his way back to Elise and her foster brothers. When he drew too close, Rune again reached out and pressed the point of his dagger to Prince Toril’s throat.

  “Rune, it’s fine,” Elise said, her voice scratchy from the smoke. “Prince Toril, I must apologize. My name is not Elsa, it is Elise. Brida, my guard, lied to keep me safe.”

  “It was for your brothers, wasn’t it? They were why you knitted,” Prince Toril said. His boyish, bright features were downcast.

  “Yes,” Elise said, glancing at Falk when he squeezed her hand.

  “Won’t you stay with me?” Prince Toril asked, yanking Elise’s gaze back to him.

  Elise’s jaw almost dropped as she stared at the sincere prince. “What?”

  “I have grown to love you,” Prince Toril said.

  Rune snarled, and Mikk dove to hold him back. “You can’t,” he told his younger brother.

  “Yes, I can,” Rune said, his voice rumbling like a wolf’s growl. “One jab, and he’ll never speak again.”

  “Too messy. We’re trying to leave, not get ourselves thrown in a cell,” Erick said, his voice lowered.

  Falk placed a hand on Elise’s shoulder. “Elise almost died by his father’s hands; I would say it’s already messy.”

  “Prince Toril, you cannot love me. You do not know the first thing about me,” Elise said.

  “But I do,” Prince Toril said. “I have watched and talked with you while you have lived here in Verglas. I have paid attention to your actions.”

  “But you have not heard me speak a word of my mind. You know nothing about my feelings or the state of my heart. The fact that you would ask me to stay here when your father almost killed me is proof enough. You do not love me, Prince Toril. Not really.”

  Prince Toril’s eyes were glassy with pain. “I want to try to,” he said. “You are a good woman, Elise. You must be to sacrifice for your brothers as you have.”

  Ah. That was it. “What you are searching for, Prince Toril, is for a girl to love you as deeply as I have proven to love my foster brothers,” Elise said, benevolently smiling.

  “Yes,” Prince Toril said, his voice hushed.

  Rune’s handsome face twisted. “For the love of—can I kill him now?”

  Steffen studied the Verglas prince, as if considering the request.

  “I’m not the only woman in this world who is capable of such love,” Elise said. “And before you can hope to woo such a woman, you must be able to give the same kind of love.”

  “But didn’t I help you?”

  Falk’s face grew stormy, and Elise worried that Rune might actually stab the foolish prince, so she spoke quickly. “You did help us. I thank you for the shelter you provided for me and my guard and my brothers. However, friendship is all I can offer you.”

  “Finally,” Gerhart muttered when Verglas guards leading horses and a pack pony entered the city square. Nick and Brida were right behind them.

  “Elise should ride my horse with me,” Falk said, taking his horse’s reins from Nick. “He’s large enough to carry two of us, and I doubt she can ride alone.”

  “You mean to leave now?” Prince Toril said.

  None of the Arcainian princes bothered to answer him as they set about divvying out mounts.

  “Up you go,” Rune said to Elise before he boosted her onto Falk’s horse. Falk mounted up behind her a moment later, his arms sliding around Elise as he gathered up the reins.

  “Wouldn’t you rather eat or change before you leave?” Prince Toril asked, reaching for the skirts of Elise’s damp dress. Falk wheeled his horse around before the prince was able to touch her.

  “We will be fine. Thank you, Prince Toril. Take care,” Elise said.

  Truth be told, she longed to eat and soak in water before riding out, but Elise wasn’t stupid. She knew the longer they stayed in King Torgen’s presence, the more danger and risk they put themselves under. Soon the King would decide that national debt or not, he could just as easily kill them all as he could send them off.

  This was why Elise bore the swift pace her foster brothers picked as they left Ostfold, leaving the charming city behind. Her muscles ached; her eyes still stung, and her throat was sore, but Elise couldn’t stop smiling as she looked at her foster brothers.

  The eight royal siblings, and Brida, made their way through Verglas. They camped only when the sun fell, and they rose before the sun so they could be on their way when the firs
t rays crossed the horizon.

  They were almost to the Loire border when Rune—who was in the lead—and his horse barely missed being bowled over by a comet.

  Once her eyes adjusted to the light, Elise realized it wasn’t a comet, but Angelique on her night-sky mount.

  “Lady Enchantress,” Steffen said.

  “Greetings, princes and princess of Arcainia,” Angelique said, pulling her mount in a circle. “Allow me to extend my happiest of congratulations in breaking the curse,” she said, sliding from her mount. “It was fortuitous timing, might I add. I was almost to Loire when I felt your curse shatter; it made finding you an easy task. Elise, your dedication and sacrifice are to be commended.”

  “Have you been cleared before the Veneno Conclave?” Erick asked.

  “Sadly, no. But I do not think it will matter. I spoke to a close friend of mine, a fairy godmother from Erlauf,” Angelique said, clasping her hands together. “We concluded that outside aid would be unnecessary.”

  “You can defeat Clotilde on your own?” Gerhart said.

  “No. Not even close. However, there is one closer to you who can do such a thing,” Angelique said before turning in Elise’s direction. “Elise can—good heavens! What happened to you, princess?” Angelique said, daintily covering her mouth.

  Elise was too tired to care, or she would have blushed. As it was fall, all the ponds and rivers they rode past were too frigid to bathe in, so Elise still wore her grey dress—which was now more of an ash black color—and smelled like and resembled a chimney sweep.

  “I was almost burned at the stake. You were saying?” Elise asked.

  “No, no. This is unacceptable. We must get you properly cleaned up and fed. I would have thought your brothers would see to that,” Angelique said, wagging a finger of displeasure at Elise’s brothers.

  “It isn’t their fault,” Elise said.

  “It is,” Steffen said.

  “We were, perhaps, overzealous in our desire to leave Verglas,” Mikk said.

  “You noticed that just now?” Angelique said. “However, you are in good luck. It just so happens that a companion of mine has set up camp nearby. We make seek refuge in his house and draw up plans for your stepmother,” she said before climbing up the leg of her odd mount. “This way, if you would.”