Princess of the Wild Swans Read online

  PRINCESS

  of the

  WILD SWANS

  Diane Zahler

  Dedication

  For Phil—

  MTLI

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1: The Beginning: And Who Appeared

  2: The Enchantment: And Who Disappeared

  3: The Swans: And Where They Swam

  4: The Ball: And What Was Learned

  5: The Task: And How It Commenced

  6: The Governess: And What She Knew

  7: The Spring: And What It Held

  8: The Escape: And Where They Went

  9: The Fire: And What Was Destroyed

  10: The Apothecary: And How He Helped

  11: The Chase: And How They Fled

  12: The Witch: And What She Wanted

  13: The Battle: And What Burst Forth

  14: The End: And What Was Celebrated

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  1

  The Beginning:

  And Who Appeared

  I will not do it!” I cried, stamping my foot on the marble floor. “I will not, and you cannot make me!”

  My governess, Mistress Tuileach, looked befuddled and weary, as she often did. She held out a needle threaded with gold thread, and I shook my head firmly.

  “Your Highness, you must learn to sew a fine stitch,” she pleaded. “All high-born ladies can sew.”

  I scowled. “But why? We do not make our own clothes—we have dressmakers for that. We don’t hem our sheets or darn our stockings. There are servants for those chores. We simply sit beside a fire looking pretty and embroidering a useless pillow cover or handkerchief. And I will not do it!”

  “It is what is done,” said Mistress Tuileach helplessly, her high forehead creased in an anxious frown.

  “Not by me,” I insisted. “I have already spilled enough of my blood from fingers pricked by needles. You know I am hopeless at it. Instead I will take up a golden pen and finest parchment, as my brothers do, and practice writing and mathematics, and I will learn to shoot an arrow and feint with a sword.”

  Mistress Tuileach was scandalized. “Oh, Your Highness, no!” she implored. “Your father will dismiss me if you attempt such deeds. You already write and do sums quite well enough for a princess, and no lady would wield a sword! Your brothers may someday rule the kingdom, so they must know all manner of things. But you will be a wife and mother, and so must learn—”

  “To sing? To play the lyre harp and dance the Rinnce Fada?” I stamped my foot again, wincing as the unforgiving marble bruised me through my thin leather slippers. “Even if I am to be a wife and mother, I may also be a queen, married to a king. Does a queen not need to know rhetoric and logic, and how to manage the household accounts? Should she not be able to ride and shoot with her nobles?”

  I turned my back on my governess and walked to the window of the ladies’ salon, where we stood arguing. To calm myself I took a deep breath of the warm autumn breeze that wafted in the open window, which extended from the floor of the room to its ceiling.

  “And what king would have such a stubborn, uncultured girl for a wife?” Mistress Tuileach muttered under her breath. My hearing was uncommonly sharp, however, and I spun around in a fury, ready to dismiss her myself, though of course I had no power to do so.

  At that moment, we both heard the sound of wheels on hard-packed earth. We were expecting no guests, for my father, the king, had been away on business for some weeks, so Mistress Tuileach and I both turned to the window to see who our visitors might be.

  When I saw the high-stepping gray stallion far back behind a line of wooden wagons heading up the lane that led to our castle, I knew right away. “Father!” I called out, thrilled.

  Without thinking I leaped through the open ground-floor window, hearing Mistress Tuileach scream behind me, “No, Princess Meriel! You will harm yourself!”

  In fact, it was a rather longer drop to the ground than I had imagined, and it knocked the wind right out of me. I lay on the grass, stunned, trying to draw a breath. In a minute, though, I felt strong hands lifting me and looked up to see Cullan, the second-oldest of my five older brothers. His green eyes danced in his handsome face as he swung me to my feet.

  “Are you running away from your governess or running to your father, Meriel?” he teased me.

  “Both!” I said, brushing the grass off my linen overdress. I frowned at the long streak of dirt on the hem. I knew I would hear from Mistress Tuileach about that.

  “But look,” Cullan said, pointing at the wagons. “Father must have bought everything he saw to be bringing home so much!”

  Our father had a great love for finery and comfort and often purchased items abroad that we could not get in or around our own kingdom. Our home, Castle Rua, was from the outside a rough stone fortress like every other castle in the land. It had been built on the top of a tall hill overlooking fields and a blue lake that sparkled in the sunlight. In olden days, Castle Rua had been protection for the nearby town of Tiramore, and its people would take shelter there when enemies attacked. Now, under Father’s wise rule, the town was large and prosperous, and our kingdom and those around it had been at peace for many years. Our castle was no longer needed as a stronghold.

  Inside its stone walls, Father had put in long arched windows of clearest glass crafted in Coilin, floors of marble shipped across the sea from the mines of Tiafa, beautiful tapestries with scenes from ancient times woven on the great looms of Ardin. Even my governess had been brought from a far kingdom. Most noblewomen were taught the domestic arts by their mothers, but I had none to teach me, so Mistress Tuileach had arrived one day in a wagon along with a supply of silver plate.

  Our personal items too were luxurious. My party dresses were made of silk and velvet, though most of the noblewomen and princesses I knew made do with linen, and my dancing shoes were trimmed with jewels. I once asked my youngest brother, Druce, how Father had become rich enough to buy such extravagances. Druce, whose knowledge of Latin was surpassed only by his skill with numbers, told me that after our mother’s death ten years before, Father had diverted himself from his grief by amassing great wealth. I did not much care how he had done it, but I was very glad of it, for I did adore my butter-soft riding boots, my beautiful caramel-colored mare, and the warmth that constantly burning fires and thick tapestries brought to our drafty stone castle.

  My other four brothers joined us on the grassy verge that had once been a moat before Father had it filled in to prevent the odor and contagion of stale water. Aidan, the second-youngest, pushed his chestnut-colored curls from his eyes as he tried to see the end of the line of carts coming up the lane.

  “There are a number of horses and riders,” he observed. “I see Sir Paidin and Sir Brion—how many knights did Father take with him?”

  “Four, I think,” said my oldest brother, Darrock, the crown prince. His royal coronet, which he wore at all times, sparkled in the sun.

  “There are five horses besides Father’s,” Aidan said. “Perhaps, Meriel, Father has brought home a husband for you!”

  I swatted at him, and he danced away, laughing. I always pretended to be annoyed when my brothers teased me, but in truth I loved it, for they so seldom seemed even to notice me. Most days they were too busy with their schooling and their sports. Oh, how I envied them, out in the fresh air or learning in the great library with their tutor! They hunted, practiced swordplay, rode for hours, and had lessons in all the seven liberal arts. Darrock had extra lessons as well to prepare him for his duti
es as crown prince. Druce could hardly ever be torn from his books nor Baird from his music, while Cullan had a habit of disappearing for hours at a time, only to return flushed and smelling sweetly of someone’s lilac or rosewater scent. So unless I was shouting in a tantrum, it was rare that I got more than a moment of my brothers’ attention.

  Now we all six stood together and watched as the figures on horseback made their way past the laden wagons and trotted up the lane. There were Sir Paidin and Sir Brion, as Aidan had said, and Lords Saran and Osan. But another mount pranced beside Father’s, and as they came closer I was startled to see that the rider was not a knight but a woman.

  “Who,” I said, pointing rudely, “is that?”

  She sat on her black horse elegantly, with a straight back and a firm grip, and we could see that she was tall and slim, with a long, slender neck. Her dress, under her velvet cloak, was rich green satin. Her face was veiled, but her dark hair blew in the breeze as she cantered with Father up to the massive door in the wall that enclosed the castle forecourt. The knights had already dismounted and stood ready to help the lady down. When she reached the door, she brushed them aside and slid from her horse with uncommon grace. Then she lifted her veil.

  My brothers made not a sound, though Cullan’s hand on my shoulder tightened its grip enough to make me wince, but I gasped to see the beauty of her face. Her skin was as pale as moonlight, unflushed from her ride, her lips full and rosy. Her arched brows framed dark eyes that immediately fastened on the six of us. She betrayed no emotion at all.

  Father dismounted then, and Darrock strode to greet him. “Your Majesty,” he said formally, “welcome home. We have missed you sorely.”

  “My son,” Father said, and they grasped each other by the forearm. Then I could wait no longer but pushed my brother aside and leaped into my father’s arms, nearly knocking him over.

  “Father!” I cried. “We did not expect you. I am so glad you’re home!”

  “Child,” Father said reprovingly, “this is not ladylike behavior. You must restrain yourself. Has your governess taught you nothing?” But his voice was warm, and his arms were tight around me. He kissed my cheek, his beard rough against my skin. At last I loosened my hold on him, and he greeted my other brothers: Cullan bowed deeply, sweeping off his cap with grace, Baird and Aidan mimicked Darrock’s formal welcome, and Druce bobbed his head, his serious face creased in a smile. The knights bowed to us as well and began motioning the wagon drivers into the forecourt to begin unloading the goods that Father had brought.

  Then the woman cleared her throat delicately, and Father turned to her, looking somewhat abashed.

  “Forgive me, my dear,” he said, taking her hand. My eyes widened when I saw this, but before I could say anything, Father went on: “In the excitement, I have quite forgotten my manners. These are my children: Darrock, my eldest son, who is twenty-two, and Cullan, Baird, Aidan, and Druce, each two years younger. And this little minx is my daughter and the baby of the family, the princess Meriel.”

  The woman looked closely at us then. I could see something in her eyes that made me uneasy. She seemed both surprised and displeased by us, and I wondered briefly if the dirt on my dress was the cause. Though I admired her clothes and horsemanship, I felt an instant dislike for her. I could not say why, but I knew my feeling was reciprocated. Still, I curtsied deeply, and my brothers bowed, and then my father said, “Children, this is the lady Orianna. Come and welcome my queen, your new mother.”

  2

  The Enchantment:

  And Who Disappeared

  It took the rest of the day and most of that evening to move the lady Orianna’s belongings into the castle. The wagon drivers were the queen’s own guards—in very elegant red and gold livery—and they and the castle guards were put to work unloading. The wagons were filled with her possessions: her gowns and doeskin shoes, her nightdresses and furred cloaks and jewels. She even brought her own furniture, ornately carved pieces with satiny cushions to displace the chairs and benches that Father had collected since our mother’s death.

  I saw Ogan, the youngest of our guards, struggling to lift an enormous gilt mirror. He was the only one of the guards I really knew; he often joined Aidan in lawn tennis or other sports that needed a partner. Once, years ago, Ogan had rescued me when I was stuck climbing a tree, and he had never mentioned the humiliating incident to anyone. In return, I always smiled at him when I passed. Now he met my eyes as he staggered by with the mirror, but I was too distressed to spare him even a nod.

  The kitchen staff flew into a frenzy of preparation for an elaborate welcome-home meal. Before dinner my brothers gathered in the room that had been our nursery when we were small. It was still the place in the castle where we felt most at home. Late-afternoon sunlight streamed across the faded carpet, and toys from days long past lined the shelves along one wall. I sat in the corner, making myself very small and quiet. I was quite skilled at this, though some might say I was better at making a large noise. But I loved to sit and listen to my brothers talk amongst themselves, and if they noticed me, they would usually send me away.

  “She is uncommonly pretty,” Cullan said as he draped himself along a settee, his boots kicked off.

  “Pretty? I would say beautiful,” Aidan corrected him, pushing Cullan aside so he too could sit.

  “But should we speak of our new mother that way?” Cullan asked teasingly. “Though I doubt she is five years older than Darrock, so perhaps we should not call her mother.”

  Baird perched on a stool and strummed his lute. He began to sing:

  “The black swan bends her graceful neck

  And grooms herself with care;

  Her onyx eyes are fathomless,

  Her beak could rend and tear.”

  I looked at him sharply. A black swan—that described her perfectly, with her long neck and dark hair.

  “Did you see Father’s face when he looked at her? And the ruby ring he has given her?” Druce asked, closing his book. “He seems quite in her thrall. She has done her work very quickly.”

  “Oh, she is not so bad!” Cullan protested.

  “I don’t know,” Druce reflected. “There is something strange about her . . . she reminds me just a little of your new friend Riona.”

  I perked up. I had not heard of Riona. I knew Cullan was spending time with someone, and I knew it was a girl, for it was always a girl. Few could resist my brother’s handsome face and wit, and though he broke at least one heart a month, he was so very charming that he rarely left anger in his wake.

  “Are you saying our new mother is a witch?” Cullan inquired, a lazy smile on his lips.

  “Is Riona a witch, then?” asked Aidan with great interest, rolling a wooden ball across the carpet. “You should beware, brother, or she will snare you in a love spell!”

  “Don’t speak ill of Riona,” Cullan said lightly, but there was a warning in his tone. I was surprised, for usually he paid no mind to his brothers’ jokes about his female conquests.

  “Perhaps that is what happened to Father—a love spell,” Druce suggested.

  “That may be the sort of thing that happens in the books you read, but I don’t think the new queen needs magic to ensnare a man,” Cullan pointed out. “Her face alone casts a spell that any man would have trouble resisting—much less a man who has been wifeless these ten years!”

  I could not restrain myself any longer. “I don’t like her,” I burst out.

  All five brothers turned to stare at me.

  “Shouldn’t you be dressing for dinner, Meriel?” Darrock scolded. “I’m sure Mistress Tuileach is looking for you.”

  “But why don’t you like her?” Cullan asked me, interested. “You’ve barely met.”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s as Druce said—there is something about her. Her eyes, or her manner, or the way she looked at us. She makes me uneasy.”

  “Ah,” said Aidan, grinning. “You are used to being the only hen in
the flock. You are jealous of sharing your position!”

  “That is not it at all!” I snapped, but the boys were laughing now, and I got up and stormed out of the nursery, annoyed as only my brothers—and perhaps a little taste of truth—could make me.

  Dinner was a strange and solemn meal. The queen, dressed in a gown of deep red that set off her dark beauty, sat at Father’s right hand, in Darrock’s usual place. Darrock was visibly displeased at the change. The mirror I had seen Ogan carry had been hung at one end of the long room, and I noted with irritation that it was positioned so that Lady Orianna could see her reflection as she sat at the table.

  With every failure of manners—and there were many, for we were used to a family dinner without much ceremony—her full lips drew into a thin line that judged us more severely than words could have. At one point, between the fish and the fowl, she turned to Father and said, “Gearalt, my dearest, when you said you had children, I did not imagine five boys!” Her words sounded playful, but she did not smile.

  “And a girl,” I piped up before I could stop myself. Her dark gaze swung to me and I felt its chill, but I stuck out my chin and did not shrink away.

  “How did you meet Lady Orianna, Father?” Cullan inquired to change the subject, kicking me under the table.

  “There was a ball in Ardin,” Father told us, his eyes dreamy. “I had not planned to go, but Lord Breasal insisted, and glad I was when I arrived! The lady Orianna was the first thing I saw, and I saw nothing else that whole evening.”

  “Ever since,” said Lady Orianna in a silken voice, “we have been inseparable. We married before the month was out.”