Ionwyn looked at me over her shoulder, eyes wide. “I think I need to sit down.”
And she did—suddenly, as if she might fall down.
“It’s all true, isn’t it?” she asked. “You don’t believe that your dead take the form of swans. Your brothers were changed into swans.”
Aiden had asked me not to tell, but perhaps Ionwyn was supposed to know. She’d sheltered me. She had spun the story of the Children of Lir to keep my brothers safe when she thought they were only swans.
Perhaps I needed someone to walk these last weeks with me.
So I nodded. Yes. It’s true. It’s all true.
I pulled my knees against my chest and sat quietly beside her, giving her the time to consider all she’d seen.
She looked straight out over the water as the swans glided into the shallows on the far side of the lake. My brothers looked majestic when they swam, but not when they hunted for food on the bottom of the lake, tail-feathers swaying like a hand waving.
Finally, Ionwyn looked at me. “How long have they been enchanted?”
I held up five fingers and half-raised another.
“Over five years?”
I held up the sixth finger.
“Almost six years?”
Yes.
She looked back over the water, and I could see her trying to make sense of everything, trying to recall the story I’d drawn so many months ago. “Why the nettle tunics?”
Gavyn would like her direct, logical questions. And Owain would be jealous that she read my face so clearly.
I found a spot of dirt nearby and crouched beside it. Ionwyn joined me.
It took the better part of an hour to try to explain the enchantment: that the Queen had demanded six years of silence . . . that next full moon, those six years would be over . . . that, somehow, the tunics would keep my brothers from changing back to swans.
Ionwyn finally sat back. “And then?”
I drew the Queen—and me and my brothers standing before her. Challenging her. I almost drew a crown on her head so Ionwyn would know that nations were at stake. But I honored Aiden’s request. Ionwyn didn’t need to know all our secrets.
“She’s still alive?”
I nodded.
“And you must stop her.”
I thought of what Finn had told me: how the Queen waged war farther and farther afield, tearing other families, other nations apart. We couldn’t let her. Even if it meant leaving the haven I’d found here in Fianna.
Yes.
Chapter 54
Three nights before the full moon, neither Carrick nor I could sleep in our small room among the stone houses. Not even Owain-the-hen sleeping on her roost in the corner could calm me. Our lives would change in days, and there was nothing I could do but wait.
So I played with Carrick, who was nearly as restless as I was. After nearly an hour of playing with the carved toys I’d brought from the cave, he hadn’t settled a bit.
Enough. We’d walk outside, and if that didn’t calm us, we’d slip into the hall and draw pictures in the hearth’s soot. I scooped Carrick up and took him out into the cool night.
The night wasn’t as quiet as I expected.
I could hear the rumble of a carriage approaching the gates from the road that wound up Castle Hill. The warriors at the gate hailed them, and after a moment, the gates swung open. I bounced Carrick on my hip and pointed to the company riding into the castle.
The nearly full moon had already risen, so Carrick could watch the horses, even from a distance. The riders didn’t notice the little man near the wall, and I was happy for it. I knew I was protected by the Ri, but I still hadn’t forgotten my moonlit beating over a year ago.
Once the travelers had disappeared into the castle, I led Carrick closer to the carriage so that he could see the horses. He’d not seen horses until we came to Fianna, and he was determined to make up for the time lost.
Carrick was already calling ahead to the horses when I saw the livery on the carriage: three slashes of white in the night’s darkness.
No.
I crept closer, not believing my eyes.
A flight of three swans.
The Cynwrig crest, here in Fianna.
I tapped Carrick’s mouth three times to sign that he should be quiet, even though he hadn’t yet made a noise.
My thoughts scattered like a frightened flock of birds.
Had war come so close to Fianna that we were accepting ambassadors from Lacharra?
I stood rooted to the spot. Perhaps the ambassador would recognize me and listen to reason once my brothers were free of their enchantment. Or perhaps he was completely under the Queen’s influence and even traveled with her Hunters.
I had to tell Ionwyn.
I waited another minute, giving the visitors from Lacharra a chance to be escorted to their quarters, then slipped into the castle through a smaller entrance. The guards knew me well enough to simply nod as I passed.
Ionwyn’s quarters were only two turns away when I saw the candlelight dancing in an adjoining corridor.
Steal just one look at him, I told myself. You’ll be able to plan if you know who the Queen has sent.
I tapped Carrick’s mouth first to remind him to be quiet before I peered around the corner. A delegation of people standing with their backs to me. The ambassador stood straight, but not as straight as the woman beside him, with her moonlight hair braided around her head.
The Queen.
With her Hunters as escorts. I recognized their restlessness, the way they tipped their heads as if searching for a scent.
I backed away. It wasn’t fear I felt: it was scalding terror. I almost crumpled under the weight of it. Every nightmare of the last six years stood only strides away—and my brothers were not here beside me.
At that moment, Carrick saw one of the Hunters’ swords and called out, waving his toy knight.
I could move again. And move I did, darting around the corner and running down the corridor, praying I’d be fast en—
“Andaryn?”
It was the Queen.
I stopped and turned slowly, my arms tight around Carrick.
Chapter 55
The Queen smiled and stepped closer. “Andaryn! For all my plans, I never thought I’d see you here.”
Plans? What plans? Had she ever thought to bring me here?
She smiled at my dismay.
I shuddered.
Her face was the last thing I saw the night Roden burned. In every nightmare where I died, she was looking on.
She lapped up my fear the way a dog drinks water.
I was a woman of nearly eighteen. I’d escaped the Hunters. I’d buried Tanwen. I’d let myself be beaten to force Connach’s hand.
Yet I felt like a helpless child when I met her gaze. I pulled Carrick closer.
The Queen laughed and reached out to touch him. I put an arm over his face, and her fingertips brushed my cloak instead.
She yanked her hand back. “Nettles!”
Her pain gave me a moment’s courage.
She looked at Carrick, then back at me. “Don’t think that cloak will protect you. If you are unkind to me while I am here, you will pay.”
She didn’t try to touch me again, but she circled around me as if looking for weakness. “Your son doesn’t wear nettles. You can’t hide him forever.”
Let her think that Carrick was my son. What would she do if she knew he was Aiden’s son? Even if she killed Aiden, or if he remained a swan forever, he had a son and rightful heir of Lacharra.
Still she circled. “Oh, you’ve grown, Andaryn! You were a girl when you left, and here you are, a woman! With your own son!”
She stepped close to study Carrick, but I covered his face with the cloak. He squirmed, but I tapped his mouth again and he stilled.
The Queen looked at me, head tilted. “You found yourself a man! Or perhaps he found you. Some men prefer women who won’t speak, who will just let them do whatever the
y will.”
I shivered. She made everything sound so ugly.
“Was it hard for you? Did you want to tell him to stop? Or did you hope he never would?”
I swung the edge of the cloak at her face. It brushed her cheek, and she shrieked and stumbled back.
“You don’t want to talk about it,” she said when she’d composed herself.
She watched Carrick but kept talking to me. “I loved the time I carried my son.” She inhaled as if pulling a scent she loved. “He anchored me to this earth the way no other person had. Not once did I change. I thought I had finally been given what I wanted!”
Change? Had she been enchanted like my brothers? What would she have changed into?
“I didn’t mind the pain of childbirth! How my son delighted me in those early days! And then . . . that first dark night . . . I returned to my old self.”
What did she mean? The old self that the woman in the forest had known?
She pressed her lips together. “I learned no man can give you what you desire. Not even the most innocent man-child.”
I kept backing away, down the corridor.
She darted forward and put a hand on Carrick’s shoulder. Her touch broke whatever reserve the little man possessed. He dug farther into the cloak and wailed, “Wyn! Wyn!”
“No son calls his mother by her given name.” The Queen’s mouth hung open. “The prince’s son! He’s your nephew, isn’t he?”
I turned and walked away.
“Stop, Andaryn! You will stop!”
But I didn’t. In that small way, her words had no power over me. She’d send the Hunters after me. I had minutes, if that. And I needed to take Carrick with me.
I fled to Ionwyn’s chamber.
“Andaryn!” Ionwyn closed the book she held. “Is Carrick sick?”
I handed her Carrick, trying to think how to tell her.
How could I sign it? I’d never drawn the Queen with her crown.
Finally, in desperation, I pointed a finger as if casting a spell, then mimicked a swan flying away.
Please . . . please!
Ionwyn’s face paled. “The woman who enchanted your brothers?”
I nodded and pointed to the ground. She’s here!
“Did she see you?”
When I nodded, she plucked up her cloak and peered out her door. “We need to go.”
I tapped my chest and mimicked pulling on a shirt. I needed the tunics in my room.
Ionwyn nodded, and I followed her down the hall and out into the courtyard, past the carriage with the Cynwrig crest.
Ionwyn lit a candle as soon as we were inside our room in the stone house. I plucked up my satchel and stuffed in a few of Carrick’s clothes. Then the tunics and spindle.
I pulled the satchel over my shoulder and motioned that she should give me Carrick.
She traded me Carrick for the satchel. “I’m coming with you two.”
She threw the satchel over her shoulder, and the three of us crept out into the dark once more.
“Corbin would want us to use the horses.” She pointed to the stables.
I followed her there. She pulled two of the chargers out of their stalls and threw riding cloths over their backs while I retrieved the bridles and the horse-rods.
Moments later, she led one of the horses near a block so that I could mount while holding Carrick. Then she mounted as I’d seen the Ri do—with a quick leap from the ground.
She tapped her horse’s flank with the horse-rod, and we were off.
We stopped by the lake first. I handed a whimpering Carrick to Ionwyn before going to the bank. My swan-brothers heard me coming, several raising their heads from under their wings with a sleepy honk.
I went straight to Aiden-swan, wishing it was closer to the full moon. Then I rested both hands where his strong wings joined his body and prayed he could sense the warning in my eyes: Fly. Fly to the lake by the cave!
For a moment, I felt something jolt through his body, as if he recognized my urgency. So I signed what my brother would know: Fly!
But Aiden-swan, who always pushed so hard against his enchantment, was just a swan again.
Please! I don’t want to chase you.
We had so little time before the Hunters came here.
Forgive me.
I stood and quickly found a long branch. Then I struck Aiden-swan. Not so hard that it wounded him, but a sweeping blow along his flank that sent him toppling. He righted himself and turned to face me, wings spread, neck arched—the way he’d meet a predator.
Good, I told myself, ignoring my breaking heart. Good.
I swung the branch again, smacking his breast, and he trumpeted. My other swan-brothers woke with curious squawks and honks. Two even recognized me and waddled up to greet me.
I struck them.
And then everything became a blur of moonlight and black wings.
I blinked back the tears and charged my brothers, thwacking Aiden-swan again and again. If he flew away, the others would follow. A few more sweeping blows and the swans retreated to the water. I followed them into the shallows, swinging the branch again and again, until all six took to the sky.
I tossed the branch aside, cheeks wet with tears, then ran back to the horses.
“Where to?” asked Ionwyn.
I was so grateful she knew our story! It took only a minute to sign that I wanted to go back to our old home—the cave by the lake. There were enough nettles there that we might be able to hide there.
She nodded. A moment later, we galloped down the moonlit road.
Hours later, we’d traveled into the forest and reached the beginning of the trail I’d marked. I gathered Carrick close while Ionwyn loosed the horses to find their way back to the castle.
Then we plunged down the trail to the cave.
Chapter 56
Even as we hurried down the trail in the early dark, I knew we wouldn’t outrun the Hunters. Fear crept up my legs, into my belly, making it harder and harder to run. We’d hear the whistles first, then the footfalls would grow closer and closer until we heard their breathing as they scented us.
My mind traveled to when they caught Tanwen. I saw her turn to me once again, her fear disappearing as she handed me Carrick.
Protect him!
A Hunter’s whistle shattered the memory.
Ionwyn looked over at me, her breath ragged from running, a question in her eyes.
I nodded.
Her eyes widened, but she kept running. I looked around in the moonlight, trying to find my bearings. The nettles before the cave were a good half-league away.
The Hunters might reach us before then.
On I ran, though my breath rasped in my throat. Carrick had never felt so heavy.
Another whistle. Closer this time.
I hated that I wasn’t as strong as Tanwen had been when the Hunters had cornered us. She’d been fearless. Then I saw what I hadn’t before: Tanwen was frightened—but she dreaded losing Carrick more.
My breath came steadier then, even though my blood danced inside me.
I slowed. Ionwyn wouldn’t do this unless I slowed.
Sure enough, when she realized she’d run ahead, she dropped back. “Give me Carrick,” she said. “I can carry him for a while.”
I nodded, praying my face didn’t betray me. Carrick wrapped his chubby arms around her neck when I handed him over. Before Ionwyn could run, I took my nettle-cloak off and threw it over her shoulders.
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “No, Ryn. I won’t leave you.”
I put a hand on her arm and felt the fear retreat. Was this how Tanwen had felt?
I tied the nettle-cloak around Ionwyn. Then I opened the satchel, revealing the tunics inside. I signed that Ionwyn should follow the trail to the cave and stay there. My fingers brushed something hard, and I pulled out the spindle, still wrapped with nettle yarn.
“I know what the tunics mean to you and your brothers. I’ll see that they wear them.” S
he swung the satchel over her shoulder. “You think they’ll come to their nests at the old lake after you chased them away, don’t you?”
I hope so.
I prayed so.
If Aiden had been able to peer through the swan’s eyes just long enough, he’d know where to fly. If not, they might have returned to the lake by Castle Hill. The Hunters might have already slaughtered them.
I swallowed the fear and pressed the spindle to me.
“It’s a miserable weapon,” said Ionwyn.
I nodded. But it was all I had left, and it seemed right to keep it as the enchantment ended.
I pressed a kiss to Carrick’s cheek and pointed down the path. Run.
“Ryn . . .”
Another whistle. Ionwyn put a hand over Carrick’s head and pressed him into her shoulder.
Run!
She ran.
I let her go until she was out of sight, then I followed at nearly a walk so that the Hunters would catch up to me. When the path branched, I took the side that led away from the caves. Then I ran faster, not caring how much noise I made.
More whistles, and I realized that they’d followed me down this branch of the path.
I’d done it.
Carrick and Ionwyn should be free for a little while longer. Perhaps the cloak would hide them from the Hunters all night. The thought gave me courage and I ran on, the spindle clutched in my hand to remind myself that the Queen and her Hunters were vulnerable.
Not that the spindle would stop them. They’d snatch it away as soon as they saw it.
But I wouldn’t let them simply have me—or the spindle. As the whistles grew closer behind me, I broke the whorl off the spindle and tossed it aside, never breaking stride. I tucked the remaining part of the spindle down the front of my dress, the nettle yarn over my heart.
It happened just as I thought it would: as the night deepened, the whistles grew closer and closer. Finally, I heard the Hunter’s snuffling breath.
I choked back a sob and ran on.
Footsteps behind me—lighter than any human could run.
Only moments now.
I longed to stop, to let myself be caught and end the suspense.
The Flight of Swans Page 27
