The Wild Swans (Timeless Fairy Tales #2)

The Wild Swans (Timeless Fairy Tales #2) Page 63

Grinning, Elise held out the handkerchief of cookies.

“A sweet to pacify my pain?” Prince Toril said, sounding especially wretched. “Why not?” he grinned before he took one and bit into it. “So, do you enjoy the lake view?”

While Prince Toril was gone, Elise kept to the woods during the day. She stayed out of sight and never strayed far from Brida. They returned to the cottage only after dark. It was easy enough to keep knitting—she finished the sixth shirt and moved onto to the seventh—but it made Elise uneasy to leave her brothers behind on the lake.

“They’ll be fine, Fürstin. They can fly off at the first sign of danger,” Brida said.

Elise supposed this was true, but she was still apprehensive.

The days trickled by, and hints of fall started to color the world. The few trees in Verglas that were not pine trees or evergreens started to drop their leaves; the air was cooler, and the ground was frosted over every morning like a fresh cake.

Elise worked harder than ever on the shirt, the last shirt. She worked on it night and day, crouching by the fire in the cottage, and sometimes knitting only by the touch.

The two weeks were almost up when one afternoon Elise heard the distinctive thrum of swan wings beating the air.

Elise poked her head up like a surfacing groundhog.

“I’m sure they’re fine, Fürstin,” Brida said. She was crouched over her sword, cleaning the blade.

When the flapping continued, Elise lumbered to her feet—clutching the last shirt. She set off through the woods, heading for the lake.

“Fürstin,” Brida called before chasing after her.

When they drew close to the edge of the woods, Brida yanked Elise back and dragged her behind a pine tree. They pushed back fragrant needles to spy on six guards.

The guards were herding the seven swan princes of Arcainia out of the water and up the hill—heading for the castle.

The swans beat their wings and hissed, lunging at the soldiers. To their credit, the soldiers handled the princes as gently as they could, prodding them along with the wooden poles of their spears.

“Why don’t they fly away?” Brida breathed.

Elise’s heart twisted in her chest. The swan princes did not fly because even while cursed, they were noble enough to think they couldn’t leave her behind.

Elise pulled her arm out of Brida’s grasp and moved to plunge through the trees.

“Princess Elise,” Brida said, grabbing Elise by the wrist. “You cannot go.”

Elise held the seventh nettle shirt out to Brida.

“This isn’t about the shirts, this is about your safety. Your brothers gave me explicit orders to see to your protection above all else. I cannot let you go down there.”

You must, Elise gestured.

“We don’t know what King Torgen will do. He might not be satisfied with ruining your work. It might be you he destroys next,” Brida said.

Elise shrugged.

“Why do you do this?” Brida said, her voice breaking.

Because I love them.

Elise pulled her wrist from Brida’s limp grasp and marched down the hill. When she reached the cottage she put her whistle to her lips and blew it.

The six soldiers turned around at the noise. (One of them winced when a swan prince pecked him on the thigh.) “Elsa, King Torgen asks that you would see him,” one of the soldiers said. “He instructed us to bring your knitting and your birds, but if you come willingly with us, we will leave the swans behind.”

Behind her, Elise heard the noise of Brida unsheathing her sword from her hiding spot in the trees. Elise shook her head at Brida and walked down the path to the soldiers.

Two of the soldiers started shooing the swans back to the water, but five of the swans wouldn’t budge. Instead, they hurried forward, hissing and beating their wings. The soldiers blocked their way with their spears, holding the birds back.

One of the soldiers had already retrieved the sack Elise kept the finished shirts in, as well as the sack that held the nettles she collected the previous week. He bowed to her as she passed him.

As Elise headed over the crest of the hill, she could hear the swans clicking and grunting, calling to her. Elise squared her shoulders and walked on, not daring to look back at her struggling brothers.

Elise kept herself schooled and her features set as the guards guided her through the palace grounds. Her gnarled hands grew clammy, and she could feel her heart beating faster in her chest, but no one would have guessed this by the noble expression she fixed on her face.

All too quickly Elise stood in front of King Torgen.

“I was wondering where you’ve been hiding. No one has had so much of a glance at you since my son left,” King Torgen said over a banquet table that was laden with food. He bit into a drumstick and studied Elise’s escort. “Where are the birds?”

“They flew off, My King,” the soldier holding Elise’s bags of knitting supplies said.