A Captive of Wing and Feather

by Melanie Cellier

  “And leave the haven? Certainly not.” Wren cradled her cup in both hands, sipping at her tea, and I had the distinct impression she was hiding behind it. She had said nothing of her feelings—or his.

  “You would only be down the street,” I said. “You could return each day to teach the children. I’m sure Cora hasn’t been expecting you to spend the rest of your life here.”

  “Certainly not,” said Cora in a weary voice. She took a seat across from us and gratefully accepted the cup of tea Wren offered to make.

  “If it’s not one thing, it’s another,” she muttered to me, as Wren poured the water. “I’ve been run off my feet all day. Now if only old Aunt Florinda had left me a giant sack of gold along with this old heap.” She sighed. “If the roof makes it through two more winters, I’ll count us lucky.”

  “We’ll find a way to get it properly fixed,” Wren said from the stove. “You always do find a way, somehow.”

  I nodded. “Your aunt would be proud if she could see what you’ve made of your inheritance.”

  “Old Florinda?” Cora snorted. “Clearly I haven’t told you enough stories about my aunt. She would have rather seen every one of these rooms sitting empty and unused. Sometimes I think I only turned this place into a haven to spite her.”

  Wren and I exchanged wry smiles. Both of us knew Cora too well to believe that.

  “I see you two grinning.” She chuckled. “It’s good to have you back here in the evenings again, Lady. And to hear your voice.”

  “It’s good to be back,” I said sincerely. I could at least be grateful for the one aspect of my situation that had changed for the better.

  As soon as Wren sat back down with the fresh cup of tea, Cora fixed her with a stern look.

  “You’ve been a great help to me, Wren, I won’t try to deny it. But I ran this place long before you arrived—and I’ll run it long after you’re gone. I’ve kept my peace and let you run your affairs as you please, but I have to agree with Lady here. It’s getting downright ridiculous. Not that I dislike having fresh rolls and cake hand delivered for nothing by our local baker, mind you.” She winked at me, and I hid a grin.

  “I don’t…” Wren looked between us and sighed. “I suppose there’s no point trying to deny that I like Ash very well. And he’s wonderful with Juniper—she loves him.”

  “But—?” Cora prompted.

  “But I just don’t think I can,” she whispered.

  She looked up, and the raw pain in her eyes took my breath away. I bit the inside of my cheek, unable to think of a response.

  “What if something happens to him? What if I lose him too?” Her soft voice was barely audible.

  “Then you will continue on—as you’ve done before,” Cora said.

  I stared at her, thrown by her brisk response to such open emotion. Her face held sympathy, though, and kindness. She reached across and placed her hand over Wren’s.

  “I have lost everyone I ever loved—eventually. Only you girls are still here—and I know you’ll move on soon enough. You’re young, and that’s the right and proper way of things. I wouldn’t try to hold you back.”

  I sucked in a breath, but she continued without pausing.

  “And just you watch, someone else will come along, needing my love, and perhaps they’ll be the right one to stay.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying it’s easy, and I’m not saying you’ll ever forget, but you can’t live without love. Juniper needs a mama who’s opened her heart to love again. It takes courage, but you’re strong enough for it. You know you are because if you’re honest with yourself, I think you’ll find you already love Ash. You just need to give yourself permission to let someone else hold your heart again. You can’t regain what you lost, but you can create a new future for yourself.”

  I nodded, my eyes focused on Wren, but my friend wouldn’t look at either of us. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she rose shakily to her feet.

  “I think I need my bed,” she said in a choking voice and fled from the room. I stood to follow her, but Cora gestured for me to sit back down.

  “Leave her be,” she said. “There are some things we have to process alone.”

  Reluctantly I sat, wishing there was something I could do to ease my friend’s fear and grief. Perhaps when the guards arrived and we found a way to dismantle the rest of Leander’s enchantments—freeing the kingdom from his mantle of fear—she would find the courage she needed to say yes to Ash.

  “But never mind about Wren,” said Cora suddenly. “I don’t know what you were doing sitting there nodding your head. You’re worse than her. I can’t think when I’ve ever seen such a bad case of the pot calling the kettle black.” A laugh sounded in her voice, but no echoing amusement rose in me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked stiffly. “I’ve never even been in love before.”

  “Ho! Have you not?” Cora actually chuckled. “Well, be that as it may, I believe the issue in question was having the courage to trust your heart to someone after loss.”

  I frowned. Her words echoed Leander’s, pressing on the raw pain of my rejection of Gabe. Cora talked as if she thought me incapable of love, yet I loved Cora herself—as well as Wren and Audrey and Juniper. I even loved Vilma and Gregor, though they drove me to distraction sometimes. I could love—but that didn’t mean I should give my heart away carelessly.

  “I don’t pretend to know everything,” Cora continued. “But I know a little more of your history now than I did, and it only confirms what was obvious from the moment you turned up on my doorstep—you were abandoned by everyone who should have loved you. By choice or through death.”

  I turned my face away, fighting back tears.

  “Something like that leaves scars,” she said, her voice soft, “and they’re leading you to hold yourself back. I daresay you love all of us here at the haven—but do you trust us? You would give everything you have to help us, I dare say. But what we really want—what a certain tall and handsome prince wants—is for you to let us in. It’s hard to have an equal relationship when you’re always willing to help us, but you don’t trust us enough to let us help you in return.”

  “I…” My instinctive protest died immediately.

  “Precisely,” said Cora. “You’re like a daughter to me, Lady, and yet you never asked me for help when you were cursed. You never even trusted me with the truth. And then when Audrey found out and reacted like the hotheaded young fool she is, you immediately concluded your fears were founded. Did you ever stop to consider what an insult it was to me to group me in with Audrey?”

  I gulped, hot tears filling my eyes. Cora had cared for me when I had nowhere else to go, and she had the largest heart of anyone I had ever known. Her words burned me.

  She heaved herself to her feet and placed a gentle hand on the top of my head.

  “Oh relax, child. I understand. You’re not so much older than Audrey yourself—you’re both of you children to me. And you were motivated by love—you didn’t want to see harm come to any of us, and I respect that. But it’s not your role to protect me. It never has been. I feel I’ve done enough to earn your trust in the last five years, and I think you should ask yourself—if you can’t give it to me, who could earn it? If the answer is no one, then you have a problem. So I would suggest, dear heart, that you are not so different from Wren. If you want any hope of love in your future, you must cast off the fear that holds you back.”

  She patted my head once and departed, leaving me sitting alone. I felt chastened and small, but it only took a moment’s reflection to realize she was right. I loved my friends, but I had also held myself back from them. I was willing to care for them, but not to let them close enough that they could hurt me with any betrayal. And what sort of love was that—that held itself back and built up walls, safe and protected? You could argue it was no love at all.

  And yet, people betrayed you. They hurt you and turned their back when you needed them most. That also was undeniable, and I did
n’t know how to reconcile those truths.

  Chapter 23

  I slept poorly, tossing and turning all night, and rose to the buzz of an entire town preparing for an evening of dancing and festivities. Nothing could have been less aligned with my mood.

  When Gabe appeared mid-morning I dragged him aside, not willing to spend another day dancing around what I truly wanted to know.

 

  Gabe could have read my words four times over in the length of time he stared at the parchment. Finally he looked up and sighed.

  “No, I haven’t. And I’ll admit, I was expecting I would have by now.”

 

  “I don’t want to leave you,” he said. “Not here with Leander.”

 

  Gabe still hesitated, and I could tell he wanted to argue further. But I gave him a stern look, and he deflated. As much as he hated to turn tail and run, he knew I was right. No one but Gabe could hope to bring the royal guards back here. Not with the current, deteriorating state of the kingdom. Those at the capital would do whatever they could, and use any excuse, to avoid such a dangerous course.

  Relief filled me at his acquiescence. Gabe would be far out of reach by the time the celebrations commenced. As the night of the party had approached, my tension had increased. Alone, I could not keep Gabe safe. If the royal guards weren’t going to arrive in time, then Gabe needed to be far from here. It wasn’t an argument I had bothered to put forward, however, since I had known his own safety would weigh little with him. But for his kingdom, he would leave.

  At least, having made up his mind, Gabe acted with decision, gathering supplies and departing without hesitation. He had his stallion, Cobalt, with him, and he would move as swiftly as any messenger. There was no chance he would be able to bring the guards back in time for the celebrations that evening, however. Would he bother to send apologies to Leander? The party was supposed to be in his honor, in name at least.

  Sure enough, a disturbance swept through town some time after he left. The innkeeper had reported his departure far and wide, and everyone wondered if the festivities were to be canceled. But no such word was received from the Keep, and everyone soon resumed their preparations.

  Wren needed extra assistance most of the day since the children were unsettled by all the excitement and resentful they were not to be allowed to go. Naturally, given their irritability, Audrey was nowhere to be found, and I didn’t manage to escape until they were all settled in bed after the evening meal.

  Juniper had been safely deposited with Cora—only the promise of being allowed to spend the night in Cora’s room consoling her to the news that her mother intended to attend the party without her.

  “Lord Leander may be a villain,” Wren told me, “but the other attendees are all our neighbors. And I want to dance.”

  I had hopes that this sudden desire to attend was motivated by Ash, so I made no argument against it. It was Gabe who Leander had designs against, and he was safely out of the way. For my own part, however, I had no desire to attend.

  But when I returned to my own room, I found Audrey waiting for me on my bed. She bounced to her feet at my arrival.

  “There you are! I’ve been waiting forever.”

  “And why is that exactly?” I asked warily.

  “Because I brought you a dress,” she said, her eyes alight with restless energy.

  “I’m not going to the party, Audrey.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course we’re going to go. There’s still another godmother object somewhere in that stone heap that is keeping both your swans and your voice captive. And if we don’t find and destroy it before Gabe’s guards arrive, who knows how many men and animals will die? And what better opportunity could we get to make it past the gate?”

  I frowned. “Leander will know we’re there.”

  “Will he?” she asked with a troublesome grin.

  “What do you mean?” I asked warily, concerned that this time I was to be stuffed in the back of a wagon in a ballgown.

  She lifted something from the bed and held it out toward me.

  “A mask?” I examined the complicated concoction of green feathers and ribbon. “Won’t that be a little suspicious?”

  “Not in the least,” she said. “I’ve spent the last two days sowing the seeds around town, and I’ve convinced everyone it’s a masked ball. You should see some of the costumes the townsfolk have managed to cobble together.”

  “Audrey!” I gasped.

  “What?” She shrugged. “It’s genius. No one will know who we are, least of all Lord Leander.”

  “I don’t know…” I said.

  “Just take a look at the dress I got for you, at least,” she pleaded.

  Reluctantly I nodded, her enthusiasm making me nervous for my willpower. It had been a long time since I had been given the opportunity to wear a beautiful dress, and if she was that certain of the gown, then it must be—

  I gasped. The dress she held up was the softest of creams, feathering lace creating a bodice that flowed into soft, full layers of tulle. It was a dress for the height of summer—or a crowded ballroom—but it was still spring, and the nights were cool. I wouldn’t be cold, however, since it came with an elegant, full-length wrap that completed the ensemble with feathers and the faint suggestion of…

  “Wings,” I gasped. “It looks like swans’ wings. Wherever did you get such a thing?”

  “The seamstress’s daughter-in-law keeps swans.” She gave me a satisfied smile. “And as soon as I saw it, I knew you had to have it. And look at this.”

  She held out a second mask, this one made from a cream material and covered in swans’ feathers which swept elegantly up from above the right eyehole.

  “You have to wear it,” she assured me gravely. “You just have to.”

  “Fine,” I said, and then tried to tell myself I had been convinced by her initial arguments and not the gown. Because she was right. If we could find and destroy the remaining object tonight, we might save a lot of bloodshed.

  “I have this for you, too,” she said, holding out a small cream bag. “A few essentials for the night, such as needle and thread.”

  I laughed. “Anyone would think we were young ladies preparing for a ball.”

  “Aren’t we?” She grinned and slipped over to the door. “I have a dress to match that second mask that I need to put on. And I think we should arrive separately, to make us harder to recognize. There’s a constant stream of carts and wagons heading that direction, so just hail the first one with space and hop on board. I’ll meet you to the left of the main Keep doors.”

  She was gone before I could protest or ask questions, so I turned my attention to the dress. It fit beautifully, soft against my skin. Impossibly, I began to feel an echo of the townsfolk’s excitement for the event. It had been a long time since I wore something so beautiful.

  I pulled my hair up myself, keeping the style simple and letting the natural waves show. All too soon, I was ready, but as I moved toward the entryway, a memory returned to me. I had promised Vilma that I would visit her in my dress. And it turned out that here I was, in a beautiful gown, on my way to the dance, after all.

  I changed course and headed for the far wing. The sitting room used by the elderly residents appeared deserted at first, until my eyes picked out a small woman in a large chair.

  “Oh, Lady,” Vilma sighed. “You look even more beautiful than I imagined.”

  I blushed. “It’s an incredible dress.”

  “And an equally incredible girl,” she assured me, com
ing over to admire me more closely. She glanced up into my eyes. “It’s nice to hear your voice again.”

  The smile I gave her trembled. She had asked no questions when I stopped speaking, and she asked no questions now. All of the residents of the haven had treated me with remarkable forbearance, and I had repaid them by withholding my trust.

  “You’ve been married for so many years,” I blurted out. “And Gregor has cared for you all that time—and you for him. How did you know at the beginning that you could trust each other?”

  Vilma blinked. “That’s a big question.” She glanced around her. “Here, come, sit down.” She led me over to an armchair, and I perched on it carefully. “Have a drink.” She held out a glass of water, and I accepted it, although I wasn’t thirsty.

  Once she was sitting as well, she took a moment to ponder my question.

  “I suppose we knew because we grew up together,” she said. “We had seen enough of each other to know how we acted in all different situations. Neither of us has ever left this town, you know. Gregor was born only four houses down from mine.” She smiled fondly at the memory before looking over at me again, her brow creased.

  “But it’s an uncertain world, and we are none of us perfect. So what choice do we have but to love and trust regardless? It would be a lonely life if we did not.”

  “But you chose well,” I said, softly. “Gregor never betrayed you.”

  I had not chosen my brother, but I had grown up beside him, and I had believed earnestly in his love. Sometimes I wondered if it was my own blindness that scared me more than his betrayal.

  “Actually, he did,” Vilma said.

  “What?” I stared at her. “But the two of you…”

  “Oh, this is many years ago now,” she said. “I had almost forgotten it. The children needed new shoes, and so I had taken in some laundry work—something I didn’t usually do.” She shook her head. “I worked so hard for those coins, and I entrusted them to Gregor to purchase the shoes from the cobbler. But he ran into an old friend, just passing through town, who invited him to the tavern for a drink. One thing led to another, and they ended up in a game of chance. Gregor came home without the coins or the shoes.”