by Shea, K. M.
Brida did not speak much, if at all. The guard captain practiced her sword form and archery for a few hours before grooming the horses and catching a few fish. She kept busy, but she always was within eye-sight of the rock formation.
Somewhat alone, Elise bit her tongue until it bled to keep herself from screaming in pain as she knit. Tears stung her eyes, and she didn’t bother to wipe them from her face.
Elise was so involved in her work that she didn’t notice the swan until it was a few feet away from her.
Elise stared at the swan. The swan stared back at Elise.
She couldn’t tell which brother it was, and she leaned back into her rock as he walked a half circle around her before sitting down within kicking range.
Elise considered getting up and climbing a tree, but the prospect did not seem appealing thanks to her stiff back and sore bottom. Besides, both Steffen and Rune mentioned they couldn’t clearly remember what was going on when they were swans, right? It was most likely that whatever brother this was would forget she was here by the time he transformed.
After Elise made up her mind and went back to knitting, the swan stood and took a few steps closer before sitting down again. Elise glanced up from her knitting, but did not respond.
A few minutes later, the swan moved closer again and again, until an hour later, he sat even with Elise, his feathers occasionally brushing her when he used his orange beak to preen his feathers.
Elise looked at the swan, and the swan looked back to Elise. Realizing how ridiculous they must look—a grubby girl sewing nettles and a swan behaving like a dog—Elise let the corners of her lips curl before she shook her head and returned to knitting.
“Eliiiiiise!”
“Elise,”
ELISE!”
Elise squinted in the dying light—the sun had dipped beyond the horizon but its glow hadn’t completely departed yet, letting Elise knit on. “I think I can finish this tonight,” Elise said, looking at the nettle shirt. She had completed the front half of the shirt and was working on the back half. When that was finished, all that was left to do was to stitch the two pieces together.
It wouldn’t be the prettiest shirt, but Elise guessed it would still break the curse. Even though it had been days since she harvested the first nettles for the shirt, the plants were still green and pliant. That had to be a sign of magic.
“It’s been over a week. Are you going to forgive them anytime soon, Princess?” Brida said, looking down at the forest from the branch she draped her body across. (After it became apparent that Elise was going to spend the hour her brothers were human in the trees and out of their grasp, Brida started climbing the tree with her for reasons beyond Elise’s comprehension.)
“I already have forgiven them,” Elise said, biting her lip out of habit to keep from crying as she knitted.
“Then why won’t you speak to them?” Brida asked over a repetitious chorus.
“Because I am still furious with them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They are my family.”
“No they—,”
“They are my family,” Elise firmly said. “It’s possible to love family and want to save them and, in the same moment, wish they would choke on a fishbone.”
“You are going to make them pay?”
“Pay for what? No. I’m avoiding them until I can face them—any of them—without wanting to wrap this shirt around their perfect, smiling faces,” Elise said.
“So you aren’t avoiding them because of Rune and Falk’s love for you?”
Elise yanked so hard on the stinging nettle she snapped it. She was silent for a few moments to keep herself from cursing before she grabbed another nettle and slid out her last few loops so she could tie the new plant in. “No, definitely not.”
“Do you think you’ll marry one of them?”
“I do not want to talk about it,” Elise said, her voice growing high-pitched.
Brida sat up on her branch so she could face Elise in the purple dusk. “You honestly did not know, did you?”
Elise hunched further into the tree, her neck disappearing into her shoulders.
“And that is why you do not want to face them,” Brida continued.
“I’ll tie off this end, and then I will need something to cut the remaining stem with,” Elise said, trying to crowd Brida’s irritating, spot-on observations out of her mind.
“Eliiiiiiise!”
The Arcainian princes still called out.
When the sun went down two days later, Elise climbed her usual tree alone.
“I’m going to meet the princes at the camp,” Brida said, resting a sheathed sword on her shoulder. “You have your whistle?”
Elise nodded.
“I will be back once they are swans again,” Brida said, saluting Elise before she strode off through the woods.
Elise sat in her tree and tried to rearrange her wild, curly locks. The red ribbon was barely enough to pull her hair to the back of her neck, and each day Elise’s hair seemed to grow more unruly.
Elise fussed with her hair, jumping when she heard a thudding noise. She peered between branches for any sign of her brothers.
She didn’t see anyone, but the afterglow of the set sun was almost gone.
Elise climbed to a lower tree branch and crouched there. No one was around, and for the first time since their argument, Elise didn’t hear her foster brothers calling for her.
In the last bits of light, Elise thought she saw something metal glint on the ground. After another cautionary glance, Elise climbed down her tree, wincing as the rough bark scraped her raw fingers. She crept through the underbrush and pushed aside a fern leaf. The metal was a buckle, like the ones on saddlebags or horse tack.
Elise blinked and picked up the buckle. Maybe Brida had dropped it.
“Found you.”
Elise whirled around and collided with Rune’s chest. She bounced off him but was steadied by another man, Falk.
“Elise,” Falk said as Elise pulled her arms from his grasp.
“We didn’t mean to frighten you. We just want to speak with you,” Rune said, slowly approaching Elise.
“We have much to discuss,” Falk dryly said.
“We should explain—,”
“GAAAAAAAH!” Elise shouted, clamping her hands over her ears.
“We need to address the issue, Snowflake,” Falk said, still audible over Elise’s protests.
“We never told you we loved you because—,”
“This can’t be happening,” Elise said, dropping her hands so she could start marching through the forest. “This isn’t happening.”
“Actually, it is,” Falk said.
“Father forbid us from talking to you about love until you declared you were ready to marry,” Rune said.
“Rune once attempted to test that rule a year ago,” Falk dryly said. “He didn’t even get to confess to you before some guards tattled.”
Elise stopped and turned to stare at her brothers. “A year ago? Wasn’t that the summer you fought a dragon and got that horrid black eye?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.
“The dragon fighting was really more…symbolic,” Rune said.
“Steffen was the one who gave him the black eye,” Falk helpfully piped in.
“Like you faired any better. The only reason Steffen never dealt you a blow is because you are utterly incompetent in terms of friendly communication,” Rune said, his handsome face twisting into a scowl.
Elise looked back and forth between Rune and Falk before she shook her head. “No,” she said. She turned on her heels and started marching again.
“Returning to the original point,” Rune said, easily keeping up. “When you finally announced that you were available, Clotilde already had her claws into Father. Steffen told us we could try to pursue you, but it was fairly obvious you would just end up hating us both if we attempted such a thing when you were already feeling the pressure.”
“‘Tis true,” Falk said.
Elise hopped over a log. “You’re lying. Both of you are lying.”
“You know us, Elise. Or at least you know me. I am not a liar,” Rune said.
“Except when it comes to your feelings, eh?” Falk said.
“Shut up,” Rune snapped.
“No, this is impossible. I will tell you why it is impossible,” Elise said, stopping to shaking a finger at the princes. “You,” she said, stabbing a finger at Falk. “You hate me. You call me all sorts of sarcastic nicknames that any idiot can tell you use to mock me rather than as a term of endearment. You are a plague on my department, pointing out any perceived mathematical mistake and insisting on breathing down my neck and lingering in my office whenever our departments work together. In no way do you give off the faintest whiff of a man in love. You are as pleasant to me as a bad-tempered porcupine.”
Rune looked away to hide his grin, but he did not bother to muffle his snort of amusement.
“And YOU,” Elise said, placing her hands on her hips as she turned to Rune. “You are worse! Yes, you acted nice to me and cared for me on a more personal level than the rest of our family, but you are an unforgivable flirt! How dare you say that you love me when I have stood next to you for countless parties and heard you flatter and compliment any female that crossed your path. You are the court favorite because you’re handsome and because pretty words fall from your mouth like honey from a beehive!”
Rune lost his mirth rather quickly. “Falk is popular, too,” he said.
“Falk is popular through no actions of his own. The man lives like a monk—I always thought he had taken some sort of vow of celibacy as he seemed to despise the companionship of any marriageable lady. But you! I could accept it, and perhaps encourage, it for the good of our country when you are my brother.”
“We’re not your broth—,”
“But when you claim to be in love with me and think that you have conducted yourself perfectly true to me?” Elise laughed and again started plowing through the darkening forest. “What a joke. Besides, look at you! Look at both of you! Matching me with you would be like a duck and a swan pairing up.”
“Technically right now it would be a human girl and a swan—,”
“That was supposed to be a metaphor, Falk,” Elise said as she climbed over a log. “Both of you will marry someone beautiful and enchanting, like Gabrielle. Not a penny-pincher accountant with wild hair, like me.”
“You underestimate your beauty, Elise,” Rune said.
“Besides, the decision is ours. And why would I want someone beautiful and enchanting?” Falk scoffed.
Rune looked at his brother. “I know we’re rivals, but do you really not notice how you accidentally insult Elise with every compliment you mean to give?”
“What do you mean?”
“By asking why you want someone beautiful and enchanting you are implying that Elise is neither.”
“What? No, I didn’t. Obviously I was asking why I would want someone whose only recommendation is being beautiful. Beauty alone makes a poor companion. Elise is obviously superior because not only is she beautiful, but she can hold a proper conversation and calculate compounding interest at the same time.”
Rune sighed as he followed the mute Elise. “I’m not much inclined to help you with Elise ever—why are you so antisocial anyway? But just this once, I shall offer this kernel of wisdom. Women think a great deal about words that have been spoken. It would behoove you to think carefully before blasting Elise with an injurious compliment. If you must say it, at least properly explain it.”
As the brothers argued, Elise increased her pace. She could see the glow of the campfire just ahead. If she reached the rest of the Arcainian princes, perhaps they would make Rune and Falk be quiet.
“Not only are you a flirt, but you are also an insufferable know-it-all,” Falk said.
“I am neither of those things,” Rune said. “And I am the only brother out of the lot of us who wasn’t good at school.”
“That does not mean you are not an insufferable know-it-all, Court Favorite.”
“Stop that,” Rune growled.
Elise burst through the last layer of trees.
Brida, Steffen, Erick, Mikk, and Nick all looked up from the fire where they were roasting fish. (Gerhart’s location was unknown.)
“Steffen, tell Rune and Falk to stop making fun of me,” Elise sniffed, wiping a tear from her eye with her wrist.
Steffen pushed off the tree he was leaning against and hugged Elise. “There, there, dear sister. I will protect you from the ugly thugs,” he said before turning to his brothers. “Your stupidity has reached new heights. Do you enjoy making women cry?”
Rune puffed up in anger. “This is your fault. If you had let me tell Elise last year, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“No, you would probably be dead,” Mikk said. “What? Assassinations happen, and Father does love Elise best even if she isn’t really his,” he shrugged when everyone stared at him.
Falk rubbed a piece of his goldenrod hair between his fingers. “She doesn’t believe us,” he said.
“You only have yourselves to blame for that,” Steffen said.
“Poor Elise,” Erick said, drawing Elise’s attention to him. When she saw the devious slant of his smile, she froze like a frightened rabbit. For the first time since Clotilde appeared, Erick looked intrigued. An intrigued Erick was not necessarily a bad thing, unless he was intrigued with you.
“Isn’t this great? We’ve all made up,” Nick happily said, turning the fish on the spit.
“What?” Mikk said.
“Elise is talking to us again,” Nick said.
“Only because she’s mad at Rune and me,” Falk said.
“And that should matter to us because…?” Steffen asked.
“Welcome back, Elise,” Nick said, also throwing his arms around Elise—nearly knocking heads with Steffen. “So, you’re probably going to choose Rune or Falk, right? That means you really will be my sister then, just as Mother planned.”
“W-what?” Elise asked, wide-eyed and sandwiched between the princes.
“Would anyone care to place a bet on which one she’ll choose?” Erick asked, rubbing his chin as he appraised Rune and Falk.
“Normally, Rune would be the best candidate, but she has stood next to him for all of his adult life and watched him dance, compliment, talk to, flatter, and flirt with every lady in the kingdom,” Steffen said.
“You aren’t helping, brother,” Rune said.
“Who said I was trying to?” Steffen sweetly asked.
“What do you think, Brida? Who will Elise go for?” Nick asked, abandoning the group hug to sit down next to the silent captain.
“I think I am glad I am an only child, if you will excuse my frankness, Prince Nickolas,” Brida said.
Elise pushed her head into Steffen’s shoulder. “This is so embarrassing,” she muttered.
“It’s all in good fun, sister,” Steffen said, patting the top of her head.
“Right now, the odds for either brother aren’t good,” Erick said, drawing out numbers and figures on the ground with a stick.
Mikk glanced over at Rune and Falk. “Pray a foreign prince doesn’t sweep into her heart while we are exiled,” he said.
“No foreign princes. I will mobilize any of you to woo Elise before I will allow that to happen,” Steffen said, hardly noticing when Elise slipped away from him. “We cannot let our best department head and the official savior of Arcainia slip off to another country. You two had better shape up and start courting,” Steffen said to Falk and Rune.
“If that is what you would like, may I recommend that you stop belittling me in front of Elise?” Rune said, his tone light and airy.
“You may recommend it, but I will not follow it,” Steffen said.
The two princes shared lighthearted laughter, although Rune glared daggers at his older brother.
Elise sat on the ground and took the baked fish on a stick Mikk offered her. “This is almost as bad as when they were turned into swans,” she muttered.
When Elise was halfway through the second shirt, she knew she was knitting faster. It wasn’t that her hands hurt less—they hurt more, actually—but Elise’s pain tolerance had grown significantly. It also helped that Falk gave her a new supply of ferns to rub on her hands to ease the welts and scratches every night.
It was still boring. Elise made the shirts as simple as possible to reduce the knitting time, so it was mind-numbingly repetitive and ugly beyond all imagination thanks to the abundance of knotting Elise had to make in order to tie in the nettle stems.
None of this changed the fact, though, that Elise was settling in and adjusting to the process, allowing her to knit much faster.
Elise reached for another stinging nettle stem, only to find she had none left. She set the cape aside and took a fern, rubbing it on her hands as she stretched her legs out in front of her.
Her swan companion—Elise still didn’t know which prince it was—cocked his head and watched her.
Elise offered him a smile before she rolled up the shirt-in-progress and stood, carrying it to her makeshift residence. (It really wasn’t very makeshift anymore. With Brida’s axe and ability to work during daylight hours, she had significantly improved the shelter, crafting a sturdy wall and hanging a length of burlap from the entrance to block out the weather.
“HAH,” Brida said, shouting fearsomely as she stabbed her spear forward in her daily practice routine.
When Brida looked to Elise, Elise held up the length of burlap—which she used the carry the stinging nettles after picking them.
“Going to get more nettles, Princess?”
Elise nodded.
“Take your whistle and a knife with you,” Brida said before she turned back to her exercises. “HaaRAH!”
Elise grabbed her wooden whistle and the knife—Brida gave her a real knife so she didn’t have to use her sharp stone, which had lost much of its edge after slicing through more nettles than Elise ever wished to count.
Elise swung her arms and walked into the forest, smiling when her swan joined her. She had to go farther into the forest than ever before to find nettles as she had plucked every last one of them within a reasonable radius of the pond.
