A Captive of Wing and Feather

by Melanie Cellier

  She shook her head. “For weeks afterward, when I saw our poor children with their cold feet, I thought I would never forgive him.”

  “But you did,” I said. “How?”

  “By remembering my own mistakes,” she said. “And the times he forgave me for them. As I said, we are none of us perfect.”

  “But even if you chose to forgive, how could you trust him after that?” I asked.

  “Oh I didn’t, at first. Not with the coin, anyway,” she said, perfectly cheerfully. “But he was so repentant. He was determined to win my trust back, and for years he refused to set foot in the tavern at all, although before he used to enjoy an occasional drink there with friends. And he insisted that I take charge of any spare coin we had—although it wasn’t often we had spare coin in those days. How could I hold onto his mistake in the face of all that?”

  She sighed, looking around at the empty room. “There’s reason enough in a place like this to think only of those not worthy of our trust—and they exist, of course. If Gregor had not been repentant, if he had made no effort to win back my trust, I don’t know what I would have done. But if you choose someone who is able to admit when they’re wrong, and change when change is needed, then you can weather any obstacles together.”

  She reached forward and patted my knee. “We all have a choice, Lady, when it comes to those we love. We can be forever holding onto the bad—because there will always be bad—or we can choose to see the good. First, choose yourself a man with a good heart, and then choose every day to see the good in him.”

  Was it that easy? Could you just choose to trust someone, even though it might hurt one day?

  “But I don’t know why you’re here nattering to me,” Vilma said with sudden briskness. “You’re wearing a beautiful dress, and a dance awaits. And also, I’m guessing, a certain handsome prince.” She winked at me. “If I were just ten years younger, I’d be hobbling up that forest road by your side. I always loved a dance.” A dreamy look filled her eyes.

  I chuckled. “I bet you would, too. And fight a dragon, as well, if it came to it.” Vilma had always had more fire than the other residents.

  “Of course I would, dearie, if I needed to,” said Vilma, as calmly as if I’d suggested that she might water some daisies.

  I remembered the water in my hands and put it down carefully on a small table.

  “I’ll dance an extra dance for you, Vilma,” I promised.

  “Make sure that you do, my dear,” she replied.

  Chapter 24

  Vilma’s words circled in my head as I hitched a ride on a hay-filled wagon beside merry townsfolk who didn’t seem to recognize me, just as Audrey had predicted. But I forgot my troubled thoughts for a moment when we arrived at our destination.

  The courtyard had been transformed since the last time I saw it, turned into a vast ballroom, open to the sky. Spring flowers twined everywhere, and a small orchestra played on a raised stage. Long tables laden with food—Ash’s cakes displayed proudly—stood to one side, surrounded by a crowd.

  Many of the inhabitants of Brylee had been less strict than Cora, and children darted everywhere while couples danced in the center of the space, dresses twirling as masked faces flew past me. It combined the best of both a ball and a village dance, and my feet twitched, wanting to dance to the lively music.

  The group around me dispersed, and I moved deeper into the throng, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I immediately began to look around for Audrey’s green mask, but with so many people—most of them moving—it was hard to see far. Eventually I gave up, heading straight for the Keep’s doors instead as she had instructed. Thank goodness for her foresight in setting a meeting place.

  I passed the food table on the way and stopped briefly for a slice of cake. Out of loyalty to Ash, naturally. Or that was the excuse I was preparing for Audrey if she saw me with it. But when I reached the door, she wasn’t there.

  I waited for some time, watching the dancers swing past and listening to the music mixed with the laughter of the children. But I recognized a flash of hair—less distinctive than Audrey’s flaming locks, but still recognizable to me as Wren. I dove into the crowd, chasing after her, in case she knew what had become of Audrey.

  When I caught up with her, however, I hesitated. She had already abandoned her mask, which now dangled over one wrist, and she was wrapped in someone’s arms as he guided her through the dance. They spun in my direction, and I recognized Ash.

  I was just debating interrupting them, when he leaned in to whisper something in her ear. She blushed, the color faintly visible from the many lanterns and torches that lit the courtyard, and allowed him to lead her out of the dance to a slightly more secluded spot where a bench waited, twined round with vines.

  He settled her gently onto it and then sat beside her, both of them murmuring, heads close together. I had just decided it wasn’t a moment I could interrupt when he took her into his arms and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips.

  I swung around, my own cheeks flushing at having been watching them. But the color quickly faded, the warmth moving to my heart. She had done it then. She had overcome her fear—or taken the first step in doing so.

  For the first time since I had arrived, I wished desperately that someone would take my hand and sweep me into the dance. And if I was honest with myself, there was only one person I wanted to perform such a service. Which was foolishness on my part—he was probably most of the way to the capital by now.

  The masks were distracting, though, hiding identities and causing my heart to jump every time I caught a glimpse of a tall man with brown hair. Cora had laughed at me when I claimed never to have been in love, and I admitted to myself that she was right. I even admitted to myself that I had always admired Prince Gabriel of Talinos—even as a young girl. I had simply been too proud to admit it—not when all the other young princesses were in love with him too.

  I stopped abruptly, the thought catching at me. What foolishness it had been, to lie even to myself. Our father had been the one to teach us to be proud, and he had directed far more of his energy on my brother than on me. If I could forgive such pride in myself, perhaps I could forgive the twisted pride that had wrought such destruction on Dominic after our land was cursed. Gabe said that he had changed…perhaps I needed to give him a chance like Vilma said.

  I nodded to myself. If this curse was ever broken, I would agree to travel to Palinar once more to see my brother and meet his bride. And, as for myself, it was time to change. No more turning my back on the truth. I was in love with Gabe, and I wished desperately that he was here to ask me to dance.

  “Will you dance, Addie?” a familiar, deep voice asked, a tall figure appearing in front of me.

  My heart stopped and then took off, not stopping to ask how he could possibly be here. And for once, I let myself follow it.

  “Yes.” I placed my hand into his waiting one. “I was just wishing you would ask me.”

  His broad smile was reward enough as his fingers closed over mine. He pulled me in among the dancers. A moment later he had one arm firmly around my waist, grasping me close as he navigated our way across the makeshift dance floor.

  “You look beautiful, my swan,” he murmured in my ear. “More beautiful than I could have imagined.”

  “The costume is incredible, isn’t it?” I could feel my cheeks warming at his compliment.

  “I knew it must be you as soon as I spied it,” he said. “But I wasn’t talking about the gown or the mask.”

  “The wrap, then?” I asked cheekily, and he laughed, the warm sound enveloping me.

  “Yes,” he said gravely. “I was most certainly talking about the wrap.” But the sparkle in his eyes told me otherwise.

  “But what are you doing here?” I asked, my mind finally reasserting control. “Don’t tell me you met the guards already on their way here?”

  His arm tightened slightly around me. “No, I’m afraid not. But I was chased down by
a messenger who said I had to come back, that you were in danger.”

  “Me?” I stumbled, missing one of the steps. “Who would send such a message? I’m not in any particular danger. You’re the one in danger! And now you’ve ridden right into the heart of it to save me—when I didn’t need saving.”

  I could feel my voice rising, and I pulled away from him, moving to the edge of the dance floor to stand partially obscured behind an enormous potted tree. Gabe followed me.

  “I won’t apologize for coming back,” he said. “I couldn’t ride away and leave you in danger.”

  I turned to him, ready to explain that I didn’t need saving, but the words died on my lips. He had come back for me. Knowing the danger to himself, he had turned around without second thought for me.

  All this time I had accused him in my mind of being daring and foolhardy, and I had closed my eyes to his bravery and selflessness. My mind whirled back over every interaction, remembering how I had spun everything in a negative light, just as Vilma had said. And even when he had not met my expectations—pausing when I had expected him to rush in—I had refused to see anything but the danger I had already decided was there.

  It was true that he could be reckless. But, like all qualities, his daring nature had positive sides as well as negatives. And he had matured since we were children—calling for help or sending scouts when such things were needed. I remembered a time when he would never have thought of such a thing. And I remembered my recent revelation about myself. Did I want him to remember only that I had once been proud? Or did I want him to see me as I was now—as he already did?

  “I’m sorry, Gabe,” I said. “I haven’t been fair to you.”

  He frowned, taking one of my hands. “What do you mean?”

  “And worst of all,” I added, “I haven’t been honest with myself. I said you could never free me from this new curse because I didn’t love you, but…”

  I swallowed. The words were hard to say.

  “It’s not true,” I said at last, looking up at him. “I do love you.”

  And just like that, a lightness filled me. Already I couldn’t remember why the words had been so hard to say.

  “I love you, Gabe. I love you.”

  He laughed, picking me up and twirling me around and around.

  “It seems I should ride away more often,” he said when he at last set me on my feet again. “I love you, too, Adelaide.”

  And then his lips were on mine with the fire his last kiss had lacked. I threw aside all thought of propriety and twined my arms around his neck, kissing him back. My fingers caught on the soft curls of his hair as he deepened the kiss before pulling back with a sigh.

  “As soon as this set of dances ends, I’ll take the stage from the orchestra,” he promised. “I’ll pledge my love and our betrothal and free you from this new curse. Then I’m getting you safely out of here. When the royal guards dismantle this place stone by stone, we’ll find the object that will give you back your voice.”

  I blushed and agreed. It was an easy thing to do since his desire to get me away would see him safely removed from the celebration as well. And for the rest of the song we engaged in the delicious process of reliving various moments of our time together and explaining our true feelings on each occasion. Gabe, in his good nature, merely laughed at all the times I had denied my feelings for him and thought only the worst.

  “Oh, but I must find Audrey,” I said when the music paused between songs. “She’s probably been waiting for me all this time.”

  I had completely forgotten both my friend and my true purpose in coming, and guilt flooded me. I would find her, and then we would make our case to Gabe. Before I left, Audrey and I had a task to accomplish, so he would need to leave the party alone. We couldn’t afford to wait for his guards to find that object—too many of them would die in the process.

  “She said to wait for her here,” I said, pulling away from him and heading toward the Keep’s doors.

  I had to push through a particularly dense knot of people, leaving Gabe to trail behind me. As I pressed past them, I heard snatches of conversation.

  “What a party,” I heard a young man say, and a young girl answered, “I’m so glad Lord Leander decided to make it a masked ball.”

  I shook my head as I kept going through the revelers—Audrey had done a good job of fooling everyone, apparently. Had she claimed the directive came from Leander himself? She was bold enough for it.

  But when I finally slipped free, right by the Keep’s wall, there was still no Audrey to be seen. I scanned the crowd. Where could she be? Worry began to tug at me, and I turned to ask Gabe if he could see her with his extra height, but he had disappeared in the crowd.

  I stood on tiptoes, straining to see over heads in my efforts to find either of them. No more than a few seconds had passed, however, when someone gripped me from behind around the waist.

  “Oh, there you are!” I twisted to look up at Gabe.

  I blinked once in confusion and screamed, but the sound was muffled by a hand. The arms encircling me belonged to Leander, not Gabe, and they dragged me backward into the Keep.

  Chapter 25

  I struggled, kicking backward against his legs and attempting to prize his arm off me. I had nearly wrenched myself free when he suddenly let go. I staggered and hadn’t regained my balance when new arms restrained me, this time pinning my arms against my side and lifting my feet from the ground altogether. I renewed my struggles, even stretching down to try to bite his arm.

  “Tut tut,” Leander said. “You shouldn’t be so rude. I believe you’ve met Brock here before—out by one of my lakes.”

  I stilled instantly.

  “That’s better,” Leander said in an oily voice that slithered across my skin.

  We stood inside a large entranceway I hadn’t seen before, and my darting eyes could pick up no sign of whatever killer animal Brock controlled. I didn’t resume my struggles, though. There seemed little hope of breaking free of his grip, and I preferred to save my energy for a more hopeful endeavor.

  Brock said nothing, carrying me up the stairs as if I weighed no more than the feathers that adorned me. What would Gabe think when he realized I had disappeared? Would he come charging into the Keep? Was that Leander’s plan?

  My stomach churned, and I had to fight to keep it in its place. I was bait to lure the man I loved to his death.

  We climbed upward. The main, carpeted staircase of the Keep had a much more gentle curve than the servant’s stairs or the escape passage. It still seemed as if we climbed forever, though, and I marveled at Brock’s ability to carry me such a distance.

  We hadn’t quite reached the top when Leander turned onto a generous landing and opened a door. He ushered Brock inside, and the man dumped me on the ground near a window.

  As soon as he stepped back, I leaped forward, launching myself at Leander. Brock blocked me with an arm, knocking me to the ground.

  “Now, now.” Leander frowned at me. “None of that, please. You can’t really think you’ll be able to hurt me with my good friend around, do you?”

  I put all my hatred into my glare, but he merely chuckled. When he gestured, Brock stepped back and took up a post next to the now closed door, but I could feel his eyes boring into me.

  Slowly, I rose to my feet, taking stock of my surroundings. I stood inside a smaller version of the guest suite we had stumbled into on the top level—this one a single room. The canopy on the bed looked faded and worn, and the air of the room suggested no one had been here for a while. The curtains confirmed the impression—hanging askew from multiple places where the material had slipped free from the large bronze curtain rings.

  “I chose it for the view,” Leander said idly, as if we had been discussing the room.

  I fought with myself for a moment but couldn’t resist stepping over to pull the curtains aside, revealing a full-length window. It opened onto a small stone balcony which blocked the view somewhat, but
to one side, a sliver of the lake could be seen as a dim patch of darkness, and on the other side I could still see most of the Keep’s courtyard.

  In ordinary circumstances, I would have enjoyed the sight of the celebrations spread below me—the lanterns globes of light, and the greenery and flowers softening the tables and chairs and lending everything a magical feel. Dancers swirled in an unfamiliar local dance, oblivious to my abduction.

  “What do you want, Leander?” I snapped, pretending I didn’t already know.

  “What I have always wanted,” he replied. “To prove that we make our own destiny. To prove that I was meant for more than the minor title I was born into.” He shook his head. “My father was disgusted with my research and experiments, you know. But then he was also content to be an insignificant lord in a forgotten stretch of the kingdom—wasting what resources we had on undeserving rabble. I am a patient man, and I planted the seeds for this moment many years ago, knowing that eventually my efforts would be rewarded. And how right I have been. Soon I will have the throne, and when I hold all of Talinos in my hands, he will see how wrong he was.”

  “Isn’t he dead?” I asked, cutting off his diatribe. “I mean, he must be if you inherited the Keep and the title.”

  “Of course he’s dead,” Leander snapped, looking thrown off for the first time. “I had to make sure of that when he would have thrown away everything I was working toward.”

  A chill ran through me.

  “When your family got themselves cursed, the fool thought we should go rushing off and confront whatever evil had taken hold in Palinar. He would have gotten himself killed soon enough, if I hadn’t done the task for him. My seeds needed time to grow—and sure enough they blossomed soon after, providing just the solution that was needed. It’s taken me five years to effectively propagate caution throughout the whole kingdom, but you could say I was doing everyone a favor. No one will be heedlessly rushing to throw themselves into harm’s way now.”