The Flight of Swans

by Sarah McGuire

  Her words beat against me, and I had no armor against them—perhaps because I already believed them: I had created this. My brothers were here because of me.

  My brothers started shouting, but I couldn’t understand them.

  All that was left were the Queen’s words.

  “I had thought to leave you here with them, to suffer their fate. But I think I will take you outside with me. I want you to watch Roden burn—”

  “No! You can’t make me.”

  “You dare tell me no?” The Queen stepped closer. “You should be begging me for your life.”

  “Go, Ryn!” shouted Aiden. “Leave!”

  The rest of my brothers joined the chorus.

  The world blurred around me, as if a giant hand had swept across my vision, smudging all the edges and sounds.

  It wasn’t supposed to end like this. My words were supposed to stop her. She wasn’t supposed to meet us at Roden, or enchant our father so that he’d ride away from our deaths without looking back.

  My vision cleared, and I could see her pale face clearly. You should be begging . . .

  But not for myself.

  For the second time in my life, I knelt, hands outstretched. “Please. Let them go.”

  “I can’t hear you, Andaryn. But then, all you’ve done till now is shout.”

  “I throw myself on your mercy, my lady! Please free them!”

  “Be quiet, Ryn!” shouted Mael.

  But I didn’t care. My behavior at the feast, my decision to run, had put my brothers in the dungeon. I’d see them free if it killed me.

  I scrabbled closer to the Queen, grabbing handfuls of her skirt. “I beg you, let them go!”

  The Queen merely smiled down at me, as if tasting something sweet. “You have learned humility too late.”

  She flicked her hand and the two guards yanked me back so roughly that I sprawled on the floor. One pressed his boot on my shoulder, ready to stop me if I tried to move.

  A sound like a mountain falling. The fortress shuddered once more.

  The Queen didn’t flinch. “You wretched, begging child, with your dirty dress and your foolish attempts to steal your father from me and save your brothers!”

  She knelt before me, but there was nothing humble about her. Her fingertip caught me under the chin and tilted my head up so that I couldn’t look away.

  “Hear me, Princess Andaryn: It is time you knew your place. Look at what your words have wrought. You are merely a breath against a storm that breaks trees. You are a speck of dust to be brushed away. You have become nothing to your father. You are even less than that to me.”

  The last shard of hope shattered inside me, and her words rushed in to fill the void: You are . . . dust . . . a breath . . . look at what your words have wrought!

  But I clung to the birthright of every last-born.

  I didn’t care if we lived—I didn’t have the strength for it—but I had all the spite of a child determined to infuriate the person who tormented me. Gods knew I had enough practice with my brothers.

  I reached for the words that had enraged her, determined that she’d have no joy in killing us.

  “We are the House of Cynwrig.” I pushed myself back to kneeling. “We are the flight of swans bearing swords.”

  “Silence!” She yanked her finger away as if burned, and grasped the shard of Kingstone that hung around her neck as she stood once again.

  “You are the usurper who came from the darkest corner of the forest.” My voice grew stronger as I remembered what I’d told her at the feast, and I chose words Mother might have used. “You crave the power of the House of Cynwrig. You may wear the Kingstone, but you will never possess its authority!”

  The Queen’s fury blazed up, and just as quickly she covered it—a fire smothered beneath a terrible smile.

  “You,” she panted. “I have your father and the Kingstone. You have nothing I wish to possess.”

  It was a flash of light in a dark place. I spoke from instinct, not cunning. “You want my silence.”

  “What?”

  “You want my silence.”

  She backed away. “I will have that soon enough, when my soldiers leave you in a ditch along the road. It will fuel the coming war, no doubt, when Roden is leveled and Lacharra’s only princess is found murdered by the Danavirian band.”

  I didn’t care what happened to me anymore. Didn’t care if her soldiers cut me down on the road. My brothers would not die because of me.

  And somehow, I knew what to say. “You would have only my death, then. Not my silence.”

  “Make her stand!”

  The soldiers pulled me up.

  “Andaryn!” Aiden’s voice seemed to come from a distance. “Go away! There’s nothing you can do.”

  Yes. There was.

  “Be quiet, king’s son!” answered the Queen. “You cannot protect her from inside your cell.”

  Aiden fell silent.

  My heart couldn’t beat any faster, but I felt as light as air. I raised my head. “I will be quiet if you let them go.”

  I waited several heartbeats, certain she’d never agree to such a bargain.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Do you think I would trust them to leave and never return?”

  Was she considering it?

  I didn’t stop to think, simply followed the one chance of saving my brothers. “Your soldiers could escort them away. You are powerful enough to manage it.”

  “I could manage it. And you would be silent. How intriguing! I would see to it that your banishment was revoked. You would live in the middle of the desolation you created . . . but not be able to tell your story.” She half-smiled. “Never in my life has someone envisioned my desires so clearly.”

  I let the idea grow within her—and ignored the unease growing in me.

  Finally, she spoke. “It would be a great sacrifice to release your brothers. I would expect something great in return: one year of silence for each of them. Not a word spoken,” she raised a finger, “and not a word written, either, for a word that’s written can be spoken. The moment you consent is the moment they are free.”

  “Rynni!” shouted Owain. “Don’t you dare—!”

  It was like running downhill when you’re too fast to stop and all you can do is set one foot in front of the next, even when you’re not sure you can.

  Even when you can’t tell whether you’re flying or falling.

  “You must promise that they will leave the castle unharmed,” I said. “And you can’t kill me. It wouldn’t be fair if I can’t say anything.”

  She laughed. “Your life will be sacred, my dear! As you say, it wouldn’t be a gift of silence if you were dead.”

  I glanced at my brothers. Declan stood by Owain, but Mael had murder in his eyes. Aiden just looked at me, shaking his head: No, Ryn.

  I turned back to the Queen, determined not to be trapped. “How would you know if I spoke or not?”

  The Queen laughed again. “Sweet Andaryn! I won’t have a servant press her ear against your door all those years, oh no. A woman who lived beside a knot of rivers taught me the power of words. They do have power, you see. Words made the world. They create and destroy.”

  I shivered as if something cold and dark had brushed past me.

  “Your words, if you speak, will go into the air, and the air will know you. And if the air recognizes a single word from you these next six years, it will pull the breath from your brothers’ lungs as payment. They will die, you may count on it. But you may also be sure that they will go free—and remain safe as long as you please me—the moment you give your word. Your last word.”

  Another crash, and the fortress shook again, debris falling from the planked roof above us. There was so little time before the fortress fell.

  I looked back at my brothers. One last step, both flying and falling all at once. “I love you.”

  “No!” shouted Cadan as the rest of them threw themselves against the bars.

  “
I agree,” I told the Queen. “Set them free.”

  The moment stretched out, and though I could see my brothers beating against the bars, I hardly heard them. I waited for the Queen to tell the guards to unlock the cell.

  Instead she raised her arms above her, fists clenched. Then she shouted a word I didn’t understand and opened her hands wide as if releasing something invisible into the air.

  Wind roared down the turret. It made torch-flames dance and plastered my brothers’ black capes across their shoulders and backs.

  Owain’s eyes widened in horror.

  Declan shouted in pain, but it wasn’t a shout. Nor a shriek, either.

  Their cloaks fell to tatters, still pressed against their bodies, and then I saw that it wasn’t tatters, it was . . .

  Aiden threw back his head, calling my name—and his neck stretched longer and longer and his head grew smaller, the black from the cloak covering his face. He flailed, trying to tear the now-feathered cloak from himself.

  And then it wasn’t a cloak blowing in the wind.

  It was wings, black wings.

  Gavyn watched it all, his own neck extending as he turned to me. “What have you d—”

  Six great, black birds filled the cell, wings brushing the bars of the door as they took flight. For a moment, the dungeon echoed with trumpet-calls and the clap of wings catching the air beneath them. Then they rose together and disappeared out of the top of the turret.

  They were swans. My brothers had turned to swans—black swans—before my eyes. She’d transformed them into something we could never imagine, something that would frighten every soul who saw them.

  Even mine.

  I turned to the Queen, horrified.

  She gestured to the now-empty cell. “Behold what you have wrought! They are free.”

  I opened my mouth but didn’t speak. I didn’t say a word.

  “Good. Good! I knew you could do it,” she said. “Don’t be so downcast. Your brothers will be men every full moon, though I do not know where they will travel, for swans fly long distances. You, however, will return to the castle with me. A word from me and the king will show his mutinous daughter mercy. But if you displease me, I will set a bounty for the six black swans.

  “For six years, you will stand beside your father but not speak to him. You will bear the pity and scorn of the Lacharran court as they wonder at you, and you will feel your silence open a great chasm inside you.”

  It was like falling into a chasm, realizing what I’d done. And I couldn’t even scream.

  “Oh yes, I know what it is like to be without words.” Her malice was potent, but directed at someone else. “I know what it is to beg for them. Didn’t I plead with the old woman for months? But I will be more resolute than she was. I’ll hold you to these six years, every last second of them.”

  Then what? I gripped her arms, my cheeks warm with tears.

  “You want to know what happens after six years, don’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “After six years, you may speak without killing your swan-brothers. They’ll remain free for the rest of their lives.”

  And then I smelled the smoke.

  The Queen motioned to guards. “Bring her with me.”

  They bore me out into the fresh air.

  Chapter 10

  Minutes later, we stood in the courtyard as Roden burned. Some of the Queen’s soldiers started fires inside the living quarters, where tapestries and tables quickly kindled. Once the wood-shingle roof caught fire, the fortress truly burned, while the Queen’s wild guard and their obsidian swords dealt with any servants who tried to flee.

  In one night, the Queen had scattered the royal family and sown seeds of war between Lacharra and Danavir. And I had unwittingly helped her.

  Behold what you have wrought!

  I closed my eyes as one of the great walls began to tilt. I’d seen the wall fall in my dream—I knew the smoke was billowing in great curls as it toppled, sensed the gaping hole that the flames hadn’t yet filled . . .

  I heard the crash as the wall fell and opened my eyes. There was the hole, an entrance to a corridor that led to the back of the fortress.

  I heard Tanwen’s voice: Don’t come back, Ryn, do you hear me? If you get the chance, run!

  Run.

  I’d stood so still that the Queen’s guards had released me while they watched Roden burn. I would die if I ran into the fire. But returning to my father’s castle would be its own sort of death.

  The fire would be a relief.

  Run!

  One last glance at the Queen. And the Kingstone fragment that hung around her neck.

  I leaped forward, using my momentum to wrench the Kingstone free. I was beyond her by the time I’d yanked it from her neck. I didn’t slow as I tucked my satchel close and dashed into the burning fortress.

  The Queen shouted after me.

  Let her follow me into the flame. Let her try and find the Kingstone in the burning rubble!

  But the hallway was empty of flame—perhaps I wouldn’t die in Roden after all.

  Run.

  I ran on.

  The air filling the corridor grew hotter and hotter as I ran, so I dropped to my hands and knees, pressing still farther into the fortress. I could hear the splinter of wood as it gave way in the darkness ahead of me.

  If the fire was a monster, then the searing, smoke-clogged air that gusted around me was its breath. It grew thicker till I began to choke, even as I groped along the floor.

  Then cool air rushed past me. It didn’t cut the smoke that roiled along the ceiling, but it was as welcome as water. I blindly swung a hand toward it, expecting to meet a wall.

  Nothing. Perhaps an old chute or window.

  A roar echoed down the stone walls, and orange light blossomed behind me: the fire had finally found the corridor. Flames streamed toward me as if driven by a bellows.

  I threw myself out of the hole in the wall. Fire and gray sky spun around and around me as I tumbled away.

  When I stopped, I lay at the bottom of the embankment, my satchel twisted around me, the Kingstone still in my fist. I looked up at Roden. The portion of the fortress I’d crawled through crumbled as I watched.

  Let them think I’d died in it.

  I heaved myself to my feet, untangling my limbs from the satchel.

  Run . . . run!

  Tripping and falling and standing again, I fled into the early morning mist beyond Roden’s walls. I stayed in the smoke that filled the forest as I ran. Ran from the Queen. Ran from the flames. Ran from the memory of my brothers being twisted into black swans.

  But I couldn’t run fast enough to leave that behind. It was etched on the back of my eyes. Not even my tears could blur it.

  Behold what you have wrought!

  * * *

  I’d outrun even the hint of smoke when I fell to my hands and knees one last time. I couldn’t even crawl. I pitched forward, dead leaves crumbling like old parchment beneath me. Exhausted beyond all measure, I fell asleep.

  In my dreams, I saw the dark enchantment seize my brothers. I heard Owain’s shriek a thousand times. And through it all, I saw the Queen. Her voice reached inside me and turned whatever it touched to fear.

  When I woke, the sun was a few hours from setting, and my cheeks were wet. I tried to wipe my cheeks but gasped at the pain in my hands. They were bruised and covered with cuts. I’d fallen almost as much as I’d run.

  I slowly sat, grateful for the weak sunlight that spilled through the trees. The movement seemed to loosen something in my chest and I coughed, throat stinging from the smoke. Coughed and coughed till I vomited what little I had in my stomach.

  Even in daylight, I heard my brothers’ screams as they turned to swans, the wind as it swept them away. And Tanwen! She was back at the castle, if she was even alive. I saw it all, again and again.

  It was the Queen’s artwork, drawn just for me. I would never forget any part of it.

  I pushed
myself to my feet, gripping the nearest tree for support. Then I noticed the Kingstone, still clutched in my hand. It wasn’t much to look at: a bit of stone with only a carved feather visible on it.

  But it was enough.

  Enough to remind myself of that one small victory against the Queen. Enough to tell myself that maybe I’d saved my brothers after all.

  Enough to keep going.

  I tied knot after knot in the fine chain I’d broken when I tore the necklace from the Queen. Then I hung the Kingstone around my neck and tucked it so that it hung beneath my bodice.

  A breeze rattled the branches, and I held my hand out to it. It tickled my bruised palm and then caught up dead leaves as it flowed through the forest.

  The wind had taken my brothers from me. I’d follow it until I found them.

  I stumbled after the wind.

  Chapter 11

  Before the first full moon of the enchantment

  For days, I followed the westward-moving wind, my mind and heart too numb to do anything but keep walking. When I couldn’t walk, I slept where I fell, though sleep was too kind a word for it.

  Even then, I could still see Roden fall and my brothers fly away.

  Finally, days after the food in my satchel was depleted, the wind drifted past a creek. I knelt beside the pool and stared at the water, my mind so frayed I hardly knew what was before me.

  I dipped a dirty finger in, felt the water’s chill travel up my wrist.

  Then my body remembered what my mind could not: I was thirsty. I lapped the water like a dog. When I’d drunk my fill, my stomach was so full of water that I almost didn’t mind the hunger.

  Almost.

  But now that my heart and mind were beginning to wake, something gnawed at the edge of my memory. I squinted up at the nearly full moon. My brothers would change soon. And I didn’t know where they were.

  I rested my head in my hands, taking handfuls of my hair the way Declan did when he thought. If my swan-brothers were near, they’d be at a lake. Swans were always in a lake.

  I had to find a lake.

  * * *

  When the sun rose, I followed the creek downhill. As I walked, I imagined what it would be like to see my brothers again. Perhaps they’d be able to talk, even as swans. What I’d give just to hear their voices!