“Personally, I’d feel more comfortable if we destroyed everything in this room. Just to be sure.” I met her eyes, and we shared a grim nod. “And I suggest we work quickly.”
She probably thought I meant that we might be interrupted, and it was a legitimate concern. For all I knew, Leander might already be aware of my escape and searching the Keep for me. But the real reason for my rush was my own state.
The weakness had invaded every one of my bones, turning them heavy and cumbersome, so that each movement cost more energy than I had to spare. But I was determined to live long enough to complete this task. Leander had done me a favor by bringing Cora here—I could never have lifted the pot on my own.
She took it down from its hooks without hesitation, setting it on the floor away from the fire.
“I would recommend not breathing in anything that’s coming off that,” she said, and I nodded fervent agreement.
Kneeling, she prodded the fire in the hearth to life, feeding it kindling from a small box beside the fireplace. As soon as it had taken, the flames leaping higher and higher, she sat back on her heels with a satisfied sigh.
“Let’s get it in,” she said. “All of it.”
“Can I help?” Juniper asked.
“No!” Cora and I exclaimed at the same time.
“Don’t touch anything,” Cora added, with a stern look for the girl.
“You shouldn’t either,” I said to Cora. “Who knows what enchantments might be on these things?”
Cora frowned at me, but I shook my head at her.
“There’s nothing that can hurt me now,” I whispered.
“What do you mean?” Junie asked, staring at me.
“Hush now, young one,” Cora wrapped her in her arms, her eyes full of sadness. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“But I want to talk about it now,” Juniper said, but I had already turned my focus to the rest of the room.
Scooping my skirts into a makeshift basket, I moved along the benches, slowly sweeping anything I could find into them. Papers, plants, wooden sculptures, clothes—all of it went in. As I worked, I wondered why the bottle binding me to the lake had been downstairs when it would have been more at home up here. Had he needed it in view? Had it somehow changed when I was away from the lake at night? It might explain how he had always managed to appear, and why he had kept it in view. But I would likely never know the full truth of it.
When my weak arms could no longer take the strain, I hobbled back to the fire and let everything I carried tumble in. The flames roared, consuming the items far faster than seemed natural.
“Here, I’ll help.” Cora formed her own skirt into a similar receptacle.
I hesitated, but we would go much faster that way, and she wouldn’t actually have to touch anything. Moving more quickly, we threaded our way up and down the benches, me sweeping anything and everything into Cora’s skirts.
When Cora took a second load to the fire, I remained behind where we had left off, taking a moment to catch my breath. She returned, and we continued. My legs shook under me, but I willed them to keep going.
We had done everything except the far wall, Cora having just deposited a load in the fire, when Juniper—forgotten for a moment in our absorption—spoke.
“What is that?”
I looked across the room, but I couldn’t see what had caught her interest. Both of us converged on her, only to stand and frown at what held her attention.
It looked like a knitting project that someone had abandoned part way, the shoulders and arms of a shirt formed but the rest still missing. Except it had been made from the strangest looking thread I had ever seen.
Cora leaned in close.
“Don’t touch it!” Juniper said, her nose wrinkled. “It looks like stinging nettles. My mama says not to touch those.”
“People don’t knit clothes out of stinging nettles,” I said but then stopped. Could I really say anything with authority about this strange room?
“Stinging nettles?” Cora turned to look at me. “I remember an old tale about stinging nettles.”
“Oh!” Juniper tugged at my hand. “I know that one, too. About the princess who had to knit shirts out of nettles to turn her brothers back from swans into people. She couldn’t talk the whole time, either.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not a very good story. I want to be a princess one day, but I don’t want to knit with stinging nettles.”
Cora and I gaped at each other. I vaguely remembered the story from my own childhood. I remembered thinking that I would have done it for Dominic if he were enchanted. Of course, I had never stopped to ask myself if he would do it for me.
“It looks like he’s unraveled it,” Cora said. “Taken some of the thread away to use for something else.”
“Like that?” Juniper asked, pointing at something slightly obscured to one side of the shirt.
Gingerly I reached forward and tugged the item into view. My mouth dropped open.
“What does it say?” Juniper asked, standing up on tiptoes to try to see better.
“Princess Adelaide,” whispered Cora, staring from the embroidered letters to me. “It says Princess Adelaide.”
The plain cotton was still stretched across a wooden embroidery hoop, and there was no question what material had been used to sew the rough letters or to secure the swan feather that had been attached below my name. I glanced back at the shirt and its missing threads.
“What are those?” Cora pointed at what looked like a neat pile of hoops behind the one I had pulled forward.
I took down the top one and stared at an unfamiliar male name and a crudely sewn image that looked a bit like a…
“Is that a bear?” Cora asked, looking over my shoulder. “And are those hairs sewn in among the nettles?”
“Fur, I think,” I said tersely. “Get them in the fire. All of them.”
Cora grimaced. “Don’t touch any of the nettle with your hands, though.”
“STOP!” A bellow from the doorway made us freeze.
But only for a second. The moment of shock passed, and we were all moving at once.
“In the fire! Quick!” Cora cried, already running across the open floor on a collision course with Leander who rushed toward us.
“Get under a bench,” I called to Juniper as I abandoned caution and picked up the strange shirt in my bare hand.
Ripping off my wrap, I bundled the shirt and all the hoops into it. My fingers and palm had already begun to sting, however, an itchy sensation crawling across my skin. It was a sensation I had felt once before, just after I met Leander at the lake for the first time. I ignored it, trying to run, but my legs no longer properly obeyed my commands. I tripped and fell, landing hard.
Leander swerved at the last moment, avoiding Cora and running toward me. I tried to push myself back up, moving agonizingly slowly. Eagle honked, announcing her presence, and grabbed at the corners of my wrap with her beak.
Juniper giggled and cheered her on—oblivious to the danger we were all in—as the swan waddled toward the fire dragging the wrapped bundle behind her. Leander gave chase, quickly closing the distance between them, and I screamed as his hands stretched out to grab her.
He fell short, however, brought crashing to the ground by Cora in a flying leap. She promptly put her full weight on him, pinning him to the ground. I finally managed to scramble to my feet and stumbled toward the sprawl of human limbs and feathers. I reached the fire in time to wrest the bundled shirt and hoops from Eagle and throw them all deep into the flames, my wrap with them.
“Nooo!” screamed Leander as the flames caught the material, burning it all to ash in mere seconds. “I’ll kill you!”
I hobbled slowly up to him. “You already have, remember? You’ve destroyed my life, and now I’ve destroyed yours. It only seemed fair.”
“Why, you—”
His words were cut off as Eagle sat on his head, prompting more squealing laughs from Juniper. I met Cora’s eyes.
“I can’t do the pot, Cora,” I murmured, “or the tree.”
My words must have reached Leander through all the feathers because he began to thrash, trying to break free of the combined hold of Cora and Eagle.
Juniper screamed as a flash of movement darted out from Leander’s writhing shape. Cora gasped, and red appeared, leaking down to soak into Leander’s clothing.
I threw myself forward and wrestled the knife from his grip.
“Eagle,” I said grimly, and the bird instantly stood, exposing the lord’s head.
Twisting the blade in my hand, I brought the hilt down hard on Leander’s skull. It made a shocking thump and then he went still.
“Cora? Are you all right? Where are you hurt?”
I tried to pull her up off Leander’s now still form and only succeeded in nearly collapsing on top of her.
“The blade only cut my thigh,” she said. “I’ll live.”
She tore a long piece of fabric from her skirt and wrapped it around the wound, tying it off tightly.
“But I would like to recover somewhere far from here,” she said. “So let’s get this over with.”
She braced herself on me, using mostly her own strength to heave herself to her feet, and together we hobbled back toward the pot and the tree. Stopping to take several breaths, she took the tree’s trunk in both hands and wrenched it from the soil. Carrying the entire thing over to the fire, she laid it across the burning wood, pausing until the flames licked at the branches, consuming the fruit.
“What are we going to do with the pot?” I asked.
“Use it to put out the fire,” Cora suggested, eyeing the way the flames had already raced along the trunk, escaping the confines of the hearth.
“Good idea.”
I wasn’t sure how much help I could be, but I took one handle while Cora took the other. Together we upended it, my grip wobbling and making the pot tilt toward her. The liquid inside gushed out, nearly missing the fire, but at the last moment, I threw myself sideways, righting it enough that the second half of the contents splashed over the flames. They hissed and fizzled, great billows of steam rising up.
We both dropped the pot, hastily backing away from the steam. Ushering Juniper ahead of us toward the stairs, we followed Eagle’s lead. The rolling steam engulfed Leander’s unconscious form, blocking him from view. If the steam worked as the pure liquid did, I didn’t think he would be waking up anytime soon. But I had no problem with that.
Somehow the four of us made it back down the stairs and into the chaos below. I didn’t have much time left, I could feel it, but I hoped that with the destruction of the shirt, Eagle, at least, was now free from my coming death. But she needed to rejoin her wedge.
“I need to rest,” Cora puffed, lowering herself to the ground.
“I’m just going to help Eagle out of the window,” I told her.
First I had to knock all the remaining glass shards from the window, a task that took far longer than it should. And when I was finally finished, I realized I had long since lost the strength to lift her. Instead, I crouched down, and she somehow clambered up and over me, using me to launch out of the empty hole with a triumphant bugle.
Answering bugles greeted her, and I leaned against the frame, hoping to catch a final glimpse of them all. But I had misjudged my center of balance, my weakness making me clumsy, and I toppled slowly out, unable to catch myself.
“Lady!” Juniper screamed somewhere behind me, but I couldn’t see her, my reaching fingers scrabbling for something to hold.
Then feathers surrounded me, easing my fall, and I slid down into a sling made of cotton. Just like before, we all dropped, two heartbeats passing before the swans’ powerful wings caught us, lifting us back into the sky.
I slumped down, curled into a ball, and gave myself over to exhaustion. I had hoped to see Audrey again, and Gabe, one last time, but I had no energy left to try to direct the birds. They would take me where they willed.
Long moments passed in which I slipped in and out of consciousness, somehow still clinging to life. Eventually I roused enough to notice that we were flying slowly, our pace decreasing and our altitude dropping. I peered around, trying to get my bearings through the dizziness and nausea.
Everything looked different from up here, seen from a swan’s view, but at last I recognized it. The swans were taking me home to my lake. I nodded and let myself slip back down again. It seemed a fitting place to die, among friends.
They must have been tiring of their burden because by the time the lake appeared beneath us, we were perilously low. I tried to find the voice to warn them that I could not land on the water as they could, but I remembered that I had no swan words in the darkness.
And then we jerked and dipped, Snowy faltering and crashing to the lake below. Her corner dropped, and the sling catapulted me out and into the dark, cold embrace of the water.
Chapter 28
The shock of the impact, followed by the cold water, revived me somewhat. I thrashed around, struggling for the surface. Finally I broke free into the cool moonlight, gasping for air, but the brief burst of energy was already subsiding.
My legs kicked weakly, but my arms and shoulders slipped beneath the surface, the water swallowing me slowly. I looked around for something to grasp hold of, thinking perhaps I could cling to one of the swans, but it took me a moment to find them.
The seven shapes on the water barely moved, their necks drooping and their small movements feeble. My heart contracted. It had not been exhaustion, then. They shared my fate, just as Leander had threatened. My hands fluttered and my feet scissored, but my skirts weighed me down, and I sank.
“Adelaide!” A strong voice shouted my name, followed by energetic splashes.
The water moved around me, new life injected into the lake as Gabe appeared, swimming fast in my direction.
“Adelaide,” he cried again, coming to a stop beside me, and slipping his arm under me.
I breathed a sigh of relief and stopped my efforts, letting myself hang there, while he kept us both afloat.
“What are you doing here?” I managed to whisper.
“I saw you fly overhead,” he said. “And I guessed where the swans would take you. I ran all the way.”
I could hear his labored breathing now, and new fear clutched at my heart. It was far too late for me, but Gabe shouldn’t be out here in the middle of the lake, exhausted and trying to support my weight. I thrashed weakly, trying to push him away.
“Addie, stop! What are you doing?”
“Go,” I said, my voice as weak as my body. “It’s too late for me. You need to go.”
“No.” He sounded stubborn and strong. “I won’t leave you. I don’t know what trick Leander has been playing tonight, but no matter what, I won’t leave you.”
Fear for him proved as effective as cold water at giving me a burst of energy. I grasped at him. “Then we will both die. You have to swim back.”
I could feel it even more, the way we kept dipping down. He had to exert more and more energy to keep us both afloat. I tried to disentangle myself, but he was the one clinging on now, and I couldn’t get myself loose. I would be the dead weight that dragged him to the bottom, his energy drained in his attempt to hold back the inevitable.
“Gabe, no,” I managed to say, and then we both sank, water rushing around my nose and mouth and eyes and cutting off my words.
For a horrible moment, I panicked, pushing and clawing in my attempts to get my head back above water. And then I remember who I pushed against and stopped, everything going limp once more. But Gabe’s arm came alive beneath me, propelling me up toward the surface.
I broke free, gasping and spluttering as I sucked in precious gulps of air. But Gabe hadn’t emerged, and I let myself sink again, feeling around for him. Instead of Gabe, my reaching fingers grasped fistfuls of fabric, and I realized what had happened.
Somehow the swans had freed themselves of my sheet sling,
and Gabe had become entangled in it. Gabe’s head emerged, but he managed only a single breath before sinking down again. I went with him, both of us fumbling around, our movements slowed by the resistance of the water as we struggled to unwrap the material.
But neither of us could kick now, and my feeble arms did little to help. The dark water stretched in every direction and in a moment of utter panic, I could no longer be sure which way was up. Perhaps I thrashed and struggled merely to drive us deeper into the depths.
Gabe went still beside me, and I grasped onto him and screamed into the silent lake. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
And then arms broke the surface, thrashing and bubbles and shouting surrounding us. Someone gripped me, tearing me from Gabe, and I struggled, but too feebly to be of any use. Someone dragged me through the water, and I felt the moment their feet found solid ground, arms cradling around me and carrying me the rest of the way.
The arms placed me gently on the ground, and for a moment everything spun around me. Then my vision steadied, latching onto my rescuer’s face.
“Dominic?!”
I tried to sit up, but my brother held me down. I struggled and fought, desperate to see what had happened to Gabe.
“Gently, gently,” he said, but I strained against him still.
“Gabe,” I managed to gasp out. “Gabe.”
Dominic finally understood, lifting me so I could see where Gabe lay, a short way along the shore line. Two men appeared to have just finished dragging him out of the lake, and he wasn’t breathing.
“No,” I cried, my voice ragged. “No.”
I tried to crawl to him, but Dominic restrained me, his gently cradling arms helping me to my feet. One of the men who had pulled Gabe from the water looked at his pale, still face and dropped to his knees beside him.
“What is he doing?” I cried as he pressed hard against Gabe’s chest.
Dominic didn’t reply, continuing to hold me back, and a second later a fountain of water erupted from Gabe’s mouth. He began to cough violently.
The men rolled him onto his side, and from there he rolled himself onto his hands and knees, his head drooping as he struggled to regain his breath. As soon as it evened, his head shot up, his eyes searching until they latched onto mine.
A Captive of Wing and Feather Page 23
