A Throne of Swans

by Katharine

  I don’t really have any choice. My strange forgetfulness, the limitation of my thoughts while I’m on the wing, does not improve. But at least it doesn’t get any worse.

  About three days after I disclose my struggles to Siegfried, he suggests a daytime flight. We choose an early hour of the morning, when most of the court will still be in bed from the previous night’s revelries, and we take off from the landing platform. The experiment goes well. Too well: perhaps because my mind is fogged, perhaps in the surprise of seeing the sunlit countryside beneath me, I forget to be cautious. After we land and transform back to our human shapes I walk with Siegfried, still robed, back towards the entrance hall.

  Aron is waiting there. His mouth twists into a sneer when he sees us. And only at that point do I remember that I had arranged to go riding with him.

  ‘Aderyn. I see that you are perfectly happy to fly –’ he glances at Siegfried – ‘given the proper incentive. I congratulate you.’

  ‘Cousin … I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to –’

  ‘To deceive me and my sister? Or to keep me waiting here like a flightless lackey until you have time for me?’

  I can’t think of a response.

  Aron’s face flushes red. ‘No matter.’ He begins to turn away. ‘I certainly don’t need your company, cousin.’

  ‘Aron, wait –’

  He keeps walking.

  ‘Forget him,’ Siegfried murmurs in my ear. ‘He’s powerless and irrelevant, and he knows it. He’s just jealous that you’ve recovered your ability, and he never can.’

  The unkindness of Siegfried’s remark shocks me.

  ‘But I shouldn’t have let him down. And I haven’t recovered my ability, have I?’

  ‘No one but me knows that. You forgot an appointment, that’s all. And really, you don’t have time for riding any more. We still have a lot of work to do to build up your strength.’ He brushes his fingers against the back of my hand. ‘Don’t worry about Odette; I’ll talk to her.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ He winks. ‘I’ll see you at dinner, Your Grace.’

  Back in my rooms I write a note of apology to Aron, but he doesn’t send a reply, and I’m left wondering what kind of revenge he will seek; I know my cousin well enough by now to know that he won’t let it go. I’m prepared, when I go down to the banquet, for the whole court to know I’ve been flying with Lord Siegfried. As Aron has repeatedly told me, there are no secrets here. But what I’m not expecting are the whispers and sideways glances that greet my entrance into the great hall. I’m definitely not expecting the lecherous gazes I receive from some of the male courtiers.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I whisper to Lucien as we wait for the royal family to arrive. ‘Everyone else transforms. Why should the fact that I’ve been flying cause so much … speculation?’

  ‘Give me a moment.’ Lucien disappears into the crowd of courtiers clustered near the door. When he returns a few minutes later, he looks embarrassed.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Apparently a rumour has spread that you and Lord Siegfried …’ He clears his throat and tugs awkwardly on his tunic. ‘That you’re sleeping together.’

  I clutch my arms to my chest. ‘But it’s not true.’

  Lucien stares at the marble floor. ‘It’s really none of my business.’

  ‘But it isn’t. I swear by the Firebird’s blood.’ A man I barely know, a minor lord of some insignificant island, is peering at me through a quizzing glass. I glare and turn my back on him. ‘Am I in trouble? Will the king –’

  ‘No. It would be considered unacceptable for the princess to take a lover. But male members of the royal family – and future members, I suppose – are given more latitude.’

  Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.

  Lucien is fiddling with the chain that hangs around his neck, still not meeting my gaze. ‘Try not to worry. Everyone will forget about it in a few days. And perhaps I can find out where the rumour started …’

  He is silenced by the entrance of the king and queen – there are bandages on the king’s arms, but they can’t entirely conceal the lesions that seem to be spreading rapidly across his skin – followed by Siegfried and Odette. Aron stops next to me, offering me his arm as usual; his smirk tells me everything I need to know.

  The next day I go to see Odette. I want her to know that the rumours about Siegfried and me are baseless; I’m prepared, if necessary to tell her everything: about my inability to transform, and about the potions. But when I bring the subject up, she cuts me short.

  ‘I really don’t care, cousin. And Siegfried has already explained it to me.’

  ‘He has?’

  ‘Of course. I understand that you don’t fly often, and that you were worried about having enough strength to make the journey to the sacred lake, but really, you could have told me. I could have helped you, you know.’

  Siegfried’s talked to her, as he said he would. But he hasn’t told her the truth.

  ‘In any case,’ Odette continues, ‘the court is full of malicious tongues. My brother’s included, unfortunately. I simply refuse to listen to them. I despise gossip.’

  ‘As do I, cousin.’ I lean forward, trying to emphasis my point. ‘But the rumour isn’t true. I would never –’

  ‘And I believe you.’ She half smiles and stares down at her hands, tightly gripped in her lap. ‘I’m not blind, you know. I realise that my betrothed does not – yet – have the same strength of feeling towards me that I already have for him. But in time …’

  ‘Of course.’

  Her eyes meet mine. ‘As the heir to the throne, my choices are limited, cousin. I have to love Siegfried. So I have to trust him. And you.’ She takes my hands in hers. ‘I like having you here. And I don’t want to think about unpleasant things. I’d rather talk about what you’re going to wear for the wedding, and where we can fly together, and when I can come to visit you in Atratys. Though I hope you’ll stay at court for a long time.’ A smile lights up her face. ‘I love Aron, but I always wanted a sister.’

  I leave without mentioning Siegfried’s elixirs.

  That night I have strange dreams. I’m with Odette by one of the lakes in the gardens, and there’s a man with us, but I can’t see his face clearly. Sometimes I think it’s Siegfried, and sometimes it’s Lucien. Odette keeps asking me over and over, Who do you trust, Aderyn? Who do you trust? When I wake in the morning I’m more tired than when I went to bed, but at least I’ve come to a decision. I’ve trusted Siegfried this far. And I’m never going to be the sort of Protector Lucien wants me to be unless I do this first. I scribble a note and ask Letya to take it to Siegfried.

  Half an hour later he is in my sitting room, walking with me up and down across the carpet, and I show him the page I tore out of the book in the library.

  ‘This place that’s mentioned – it’s supposedly somewhere in Olorys. Do you know it?’

  He frowns at the page. ‘I’m not sure … Where is this from?’

  ‘From the book my father was searching for: Tales of the Flightless of Olorys, by Gullwing Frant.’

  ‘Ah yes, the history project.’

  ‘Well …’ I fiddle with the pearl buttons on the front of my dress, ‘that wasn’t exactly true. I’m not interested in history in general. But I’m very interested in finding out who murdered my mother.’

  A pause, before Siegfried asks, ‘So, these would be the hawks that you were asking about?’ His tone is serious, but not sceptical.

  ‘Yes. I think they were from the Flayfeather family. One of them at least was here in the city around the time my mother died. And I think they’re living somewhere in Olorys. Hiding. The story Frant collected was from fifty years ago apparently. If it’s true, then perhaps this –’ I tap the place name on the thin leaf of paper – ‘is where they came from. And perhaps they went back there.’ A sigh escapes me. ‘Maybe it’s wrong, Siegfried, but I want them to pay for what they did, if they’re aliv
e. And if not … I still want the truth. Who told them to attack us? And why?’

  Siegfried takes the page and squints at the small print. ‘Dauflore.… I don’t know. It could be a misspelling, I suppose. There’s a small town near the coast called Deaufleur. We’ll go and have a look.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course. It’s too far to fly there and back in a day, but I have a manor house nearby. We can rest there and return the next day. I’d like the chance to show you some of my dominion, Aderyn.’

  I twist my mother’s ring round and round on my finger. After all this time, the possibility of finally taking action against my attackers excites me. But it scares me too. Especially after what happened to Lord Hawkin.

  I need to be careful.

  Siegfried bends his head nearer. ‘I heard a rumour that the king is going to try a water cure next week, at the spa at Lamming, hoping it will help with his skin. He’ll be gone for a night. We’ll leave the same day and return the following morning. No one will even realise we’re missing.’ He passes the page back to me and grins. ‘It’ll be fun.’

  But when Siegfried has left it isn’t any anticipation of fun that dominates my thoughts. I find myself imagining a confrontation with the two men who killed my mother, imagining what I might say to them, what I might do. Anxiety blooms in the pit of my stomach and sits there, a permanent background sensation to every waking moment for the next few days. It doesn’t matter if I’m riding, eating, trying to work or to sleep. Even while I’m flying, with Siegfried’s potion coursing through my veins, I’m still slightly aware of it.

  Still, the time wears away, and the morning of the king’s departure arrives. After Letya and I run over our story again (she knows where I am going, but will try to conceal my whereabouts from Lucien or anyone who asks), I go to the sanctuary. To my surprise, Lucien is there, talking in a low voice to the Venerable Mother. There are lines of tension in his face and his bearing. Despite what he said to Turik, part of me feels sorry for him; he looks wretched. But I leave without trying to speak to him. When the time finally comes for me to take the potion, I drain the vial with relief.

  It’s a long flight to Deaufleur, the longest I’ve made so far. I’m nervous, after the problems I’ve had concentrating, that the flight will be too much for me, but Siegfried is reassuring. Once I’ve transformed I’m barely aware of the time passing – of anything much, beyond the gradual warming of the air – until I’m crouched, naked, in a shallow, weed-choked lake. Siegfried unties the waterproof bundle he’s been carrying and hands me a robe.

  ‘Welcome to Olorys, Your Grace. Your presence lends new beauty to my dominion.’

  Another stock phrase, though Siegfried delivers it well. I laugh. ‘Why, thank you, my lord.’

  We walk the short distance to the town walls. As soon as the guards see Siegfried they back away and bow deeply.

  ‘Your lordship, we were not expecting you.’

  ‘We’re here to speak to the alderman.’

  ‘At once, my lord.’ There is a hasty exchange of glances between the guards. The older one says, ‘Adain here will take you to the alderman’s house, my lord. We are honoured by your presence.’ He nudges his colleague. ‘Gloves, boy. Quickly!’

  Adain runs to the guard-house behind the gate and returns wearing gauntlets. ‘This way, my lord. And my lady.’

  We follow the guard into the town. The streets are narrow, but stone-paved, lined with arched doorways. Some of the red-tiled buildings seem to be houses, some are shops. There are stalls displaying bolts of fabric, bowls of spices and dried foodstuffs, glassware. A few of the arches open into courtyard gardens. I catch glimpses of trellises smothered in deep purple flowers and small trees bearing some kind of fruit that I don’t recognise. The news of our arrival spreads quickly. Those we pass bow and edge as far away as they can. People fall silent, and mothers call their children inside.

  The alderman’s house overlooks a central square with a fountain in the middle. Adain leads us up a short flight of stairs to a covered walkway that surrounds the first floor of the house, and bangs on the door. It opens and he has a hurried conversation with someone inside, which results in a woman emerging from the house. She bobs a curtsy as she wipes her floury hands on an apron.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Your Lordship, but His Honour isn’t here. He’s over at the Guildhall with the sheriff, seeing about a party that’s arrived from –’

  Siegfried cuts her off, turning to Adain. ‘Take me there. Aderyn –’ he leads me a little way from the guard and the housekeeper, lowering his voice – ‘perhaps you should wait here while I see the alderman. I might get more information from him alone.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘I know how important this is to you. But really, I think it’s for the best. You trust me, don’t you?’

  It’s hard for me to argue. He knows his dominion, and I don’t. ‘You know I do. I’ll explore the town a little.’

  ‘I won’t be long. You –’ he points at the housekeeper – ‘show Her Grace whatever she wishes to see.’ Siegfried takes my hand, as he has done before, but to my surprise he turns it over and kisses my palm before he and the guard stride off.

  Why did he do that?

  ‘Your Grace?’

  I realise the woman has asked me a question. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘May I fetch my gloves, Your Grace?’

  ‘Oh, of course.’

  The woman is back again within a couple of minutes, breathing hard. I guess she’s run up and down at least one set of stairs.

  ‘What would you like to see, my lady?’

  ‘I’d like to know the names of some local things. There was some curious blue glass on a stall, and a sort of pinkish fruit …’

  She nods and leads me down into the square. At first, I enjoy my tour. I owe my knowledge of the world outside Merl almost entirely to books, and I’ve a long list of places I want to visit for myself. Sights like the Pyre Flames north of Fenian, and the ruins of the city of Palia, on the island of Marris. Seeing a new place with my own eyes is fascinating. We find a glassblower, who tells me that the blue colour of the glass comes from the addition of a type of metal called goblin. My guide takes me to a lacemaker, a silversmith, and a grocer, where I discover that the pink fruit is a citrine. All the people I meet seem prosperous and healthy.

  And yet, they are also, clearly, terrified of me. They answer my questions because they must. But they won’t look at me. They offer me their goods and seem confused when I decline because I have no means of paying for them. I’m confused too, until my guide explains local custom: the nobles in Olorys are not required to pay for that which they take from the flightless.

  My lack of knowledge about the rest of the kingdom shames me. Perhaps Turik is right. Perhaps Lucien would make a better Protector than me. I decide to return to the house and wait for Siegfried there, and begin telling my guide as much, when I’m distracted by shouts and cries coming from the courtyard of a large building nearby.

  ‘What’s that?’

  The housekeeper twists her apron between her hands. ‘It’s only the justice house, Your Grace, nothing you would wish to see.’

  ‘But what’s going on?’

  ‘The court’s been summoned today, Your Grace, so perhaps we should –’ She stops, pressing her hand to her chest as a child’s voice rings out above the noise.

  ‘Mother! Mother, please don’t let them –’

  The cry catches at my heart. I run towards the doorway. The guards there call out for me to stop, but I ignore them: they recognise what I’m wearing and don’t dare to detain me. The people thronging the courtyard don’t notice me at first, but I order them to let me through, throwing as much authority into my voice as I can. They look around and realise I’m a noble and scramble out of my way, and I’m soon at the front of the crowd.

  There is a family there, ringed by guards. I can tell they’re a family – the two children are an obvious blend of their p
arents – but each of them is bound to a stake, with logs and kindling piled at their feet. Bound and gagged. Even the youngest child, who can be no more than three or four. Two of the guards carry flaming torches.

  ‘What is going on here?’

  ‘I think the question, Your Grace,’ someone calls out, ‘is what you are doing here?’

  I recognise the voice. But surely, surely it can’t be …

  Patrus of Brithys, my would-be husband, is sitting in the gallery overlooking the courtyard. Next to him is a glum-faced man with bright orange hair, yellowish skin and blue eyelids – a member of a gannet family. He looks from me to Patrus, bewildered.

  I ignore him and address Patrus. ‘Will you please tell me, my lord, why these people are bound like this?’ My limbs have begun to tremble as the cold of the antidote worms its way into my core; I clutch my robe tighter around me and hope that no one will notice.

  Patrus rises and makes his way down from the gallery to stand in front of me. ‘There is no need for you to be concerned, my dear lady. These flightless were accused of breaking a Decree, they confessed to breaking a Decree and they are to be punished accordingly. Since the offence took place on Brithyan territory, I am here to see the sentence carried out.’

  I glance at the young woman tied to the second stake. She can’t be much older than me, and she’s staring at me, weeping silently. ‘What Decree did they break?’

  ‘The man was found to be in possession of a bow, complete with arrows. A capital offence, as you will be aware. Fortunately Brithyan guards are highly trained. I hope to have the chance to introduce similar standards to Atratys one day.’ He bows and simpers at me.

  I bite my lip, wondering what I can do. Patrus is correct: possession of a bow is punishable by death. It always has been. But I also know, from what Lord Lancelin has told me, that the flightless who live in the countryside will often take the risk; a bow enables them to catch game that otherwise would escape. And if the choice is to hunt with a bow or starve …

  ‘But why are his wife and children condemned?’

  ‘The punishment allotted is that the transgressor should witness the execution of his entire family before being put to death himself. The Decree is quite clear on the matter.’