Princess of the Wild Swans Page 2

  “Did you not think to write to us and let us know, Father?” Darrock asked. “We could have prepared a better welcome for you both.”

  Father looked a little bemused. “It all happened so quickly. . . ,” he murmured.

  “Well, then, a toast to you,” said Darrock, lifting his goblet. “To your marriage—may it be long and full of joy.” But his tone was flat as he said it, and the clink of goblets touched together sounded harsh to me.

  Late that night, I was awakened by the sound of a voice raised in anger. I had slept in a room next to Father’s since Mother died, for as a small child I was plagued with night terrors and only Father could comfort me. Though the castle walls were thick, my clothes closet backed on his, and when my closet doors were open I could hear conversations in his room. Many were the times I had opened the doors to listen to Father dispensing advice or reprimands to my brothers.

  I tumbled out of bed and crept into my closet, pressing my ear against the wall.

  “How could you keep such a thing from me?” I heard Lady Orianna demand in a tone of great indignation. “You told me of your daughter, but five boys—was this a secret you thought I somehow would not learn?”

  “My love, I do not understand,” Father responded, sounding bewildered. “I did not say anything because I did not think it would matter.”

  “You are simpleminded, then,” Lady Orianna said bitterly. “Only the male children can grow up to rule in your kingdom, so of course your sons matter to me. What of our own children? If I should find myself with child and give you a son, he will never be king!”

  Father’s reply was low and measured, and I had to strain to hear it. “No, Orianna, should that happy event occur, our child could not be king. There are five princes who would be ahead of him in the succession. But he would be a prince of the realm, and I would love him as I do my other children.”

  There was a silence, and then Lady Orianna said, “I am sorry, my dear. Of course you would love our child. You are quite right—that is what matters. I do not know what I was thinking. Forgive me—the strain of our long journey has exhausted me and made me speak foolishly.” Her voice was suddenly sweet, and it made my skin crawl.

  “You must rest, my love,” Father said fondly, and then all was quiet.

  I did not sleep again that night but lay replaying the conversation in my mind, and in the morning I went straight to Darrock. He had been rising early each morning to meet with advisors and see to Father’s business while he was away. I found him in the dining hall, where he was breakfasting on smoked fish and dark bread and tea, a pile of papers to be read and signed already stacked before him.

  “Meriel!” Darrock said in surprise, for I rarely woke before nine and usually ate breakfast with Mistress Tuileach. “You are about early this morning. Here, have some bread and jam.”

  “I am not hungry. I need to tell you something,” I said emphatically, and I related what I had overheard between Father and Lady Orianna. Beneath his golden coronet, Darrock’s brow creased. I could see that my tale disturbed him.

  “I think Druce might be right,” I told him. “I think the lady has enchanted Father. We must do something!”

  Darrock sighed. “She is not a witch, Meriel,” he assured me. “She is simply a young and beautiful woman with whom our father has fallen in love. Of course she wants any male child she bears to rule—but that cannot be. It sounds as if Father has made that quite clear.”

  “But—,” I began, agitated.

  “Meriel, I have work I must do. She is your stepmother, and there is nothing to be done about it. You must learn to get along with her.”

  “But. . . ,” I said again, trailing off when I saw that Darrock’s attention had already turned from me to the papers before him. Frustrated, I left the dining hall and went in search of my other brothers. As I came to the front entryway, I saw that Lady Orianna had placed her own guards, in their dark red uniforms with gold buttons and epaulets, at the door. They crossed their lances before me, blocking my way, and I glared at them, furious.

  “Make way for me,” I ordered. “Do you not know who I am?”

  “You are the princess Meriel,” one of the guards replied carelessly. I noted his drooping black mustache and thought that he looked more like a fool than a guard.

  “I am, and you must let me pass,” I said.

  “The queen has commanded that you must tell us where you are going,” the mustached guard informed me. My rage boiled over.

  “How dare you!” I cried out. “She cannot tell me what to do! Now, get out of my way, you scurvy villain!”

  There were footsteps behind me, and then I felt a hand on my shoulder, gripping it hard. It was the lady Orianna, I could tell without turning around. Her scent, of spice and sandalwood and something strange and musky, announced her.

  “Meriel, it is for your own safety,” she said in a gentle voice. “I have seen that you are free to come and go as you please, and that is not proper for a princess. You have only to tell the guards where you are going, so we are not made anxious over your whereabouts.”

  I thought about refusing, but I did not want to antagonize her overmuch—not yet, at any rate. “I am going to the stables to see my brother,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “There!” she said with a little laugh. “That was not hard, was it?” I shrugged her hand off my shoulder and darted under the guards’ lances as they raised them, breaking into a run as soon as I guessed she had turned away.

  In the gardens I slowed, noticing the groundsmen trimming back the roses and preparing the flowerbeds for the cold weather to come. I strode down the gravel footpath past the little pond filled with water lilies and fish both gold and spotted, past the fountain in the shape of a dolphin spouting, past hedges trimmed into shapes of animals—a tiger, an elephant, and my favorite, a unicorn. On the far side of the hedges, I came to the stables, where I found Aidan preparing to ride out for the day. Baird was with him, having been pried from his music for the outing. They listened to me, their horses prancing eagerly, and they too had little patience with what I had to say.

  “Leave it be, Meriel,” Baird advised me.

  Aidan added, “You must convince the new queen what fine fellows we are, so she does not kill us off one by one to free the throne for her own child!” He and Baird laughed loud and long at the joke, but I felt quite frantic. To me such an act did not seem completely impossible.

  I went back, passing by the guards without meeting their eyes, and climbed the great marble staircase to the library. There, as usual, was Druce, who sat at a polished wooden table piled with books, declining Latin verbs to himself in a low voice. He held up his hand to silence me when I entered and finished: “Incantabam, incantarem, incantabo.” When I told him my fears, he laughed too.

  “Oh, Meriel, you are so dramatic!” he exclaimed, his lip stained with ink where he chewed on his pen nib. “You mustn’t take what I said yesterday seriously. I promise you, she is no threat to us. She is just a woman whose plans for her future have been foiled. Stay out of her way, and she will get over it.”

  Finally I climbed up one more flight of stairs to the royal bedchambers and went to Cullan, still asleep in a tangle of bedclothes in his darkened room. I threw open the long linen drapes, and the sun streamed in across his bed.

  “What is it?” he moaned, covering his head with a pillow. “Is that you, Meriel? Do go away, please.”

  “I will not,” I said firmly, and proceeded to relate to him the night’s conversation and our brothers’ reactions. By the time I was finished, he was more or less awake, and his green eyes were bright and interested.

  “Those are not the words of a happy bride,” he observed, stretching long and motioning me to perch beside him.

  “No indeed,” I agreed. “I am sure she has enchanted Father in some way, as Druce said.”

  Cullan shook his head. “What you overheard is certainly no proof of witchcraft or wicked intentions.”

&nbs
p; I had to admit that he was right—Lady Orianna’s words were not evil in themselves. “I know that,” I said. “But there is something strange about her, don’t you think?”

  “It is not so strange that a beautiful young woman marries an older, wealthy, powerful man,” Cullan pointed out. “In fact, it is pretty much the way of the world.”

  I pouted. “Well, I plan to watch her closely. And if I see anything that points to . . . well, anything out of the ordinary—”

  “If you do,” Cullan assured me, “I will bring my friend Riona to meet her. Like can recognize like, I have heard—she will be able to tell if Lady Orianna has dark powers or only dark desires.”

  “Will you really?” I said excitedly, bouncing on the bed. “I should like very much to meet Riona! Could you bring her today? Please?”

  “I just told you I would bring her to the castle if you found anything suspicious,” Cullan said, his patience used up. “Now give me some peace. It’s barely dawn, and your bouncing makes my head ache.”

  It was nearly noon by this time, but I left smiling. On my way out, I snatched a scone from the tray that held Cullan’s breakfast, long since gone cold, and ate it as I went back to my room. Now I had a plan. I had only to watch and wait.

  The trouble was, there seemed nothing to see. Lady Orianna spent the day overseeing the unpacking of her vast store of trunks and boxes. From behind doors and around corners, I watched in amazement as clothes in marvelous colors and luxurious fabrics were brushed and hung. Her slippery-cushioned chairs and divans replaced our own elegant but comfortable pieces, which went home with Sir Paidin, Sir Brion, and other pleased courtiers. I fumed when I saw that an enormous painting of the new queen, bright and glittering in a silver gown, had taken the place of my mother’s portrait in the throne room.

  I constantly had to dodge out of sight or out of the way as Lady Orianna bustled through the castle, changing the position of this or that painting, vase, or mirror. Once, when I did not move quickly enough, she brushed me aside as if I were a bothersome pup, murmuring, “Do get out of the way, child. I am surpassing busy.”

  Oh, how that vexed me! It was the same thing my brothers—and even Father—always said to me. I had never much wanted a new mother, but I had always assumed that if Father were to remarry, his new wife would at least be kind to me. Indulgent, even, as I had been motherless for so long. But Lady Orianna seemed determined to take for herself what little attention my father bestowed on me. Every time that day that I found a moment to be with Father, she somehow knew it and would appear to ask for advice on the placement of a vase or the menu for dinner. Father would turn to her, his face lighting up like a beacon, and I would be utterly forgotten. By day’s end I thoroughly despised her.

  I went back to Cullan’s room just before I went to bed. He was readying himself to go out for the evening, smoothing his reddish-brown curls before a mirror. Clothes were strewn about, and a row of polished boots, from which he had obviously chosen the gleaming pair he wore, stood at attention by the hearth.

  “Ah, Meriel,” he said, smiling distractedly at me as he adjusted his embroidered tunic. “How goes the witch hunt?”

  “It is surely the truth that she is a witch,” I told him. “Each time I tried to talk with Father, she appeared as if by magic. Clearly she does not want us to speak. She fears being discovered.”

  Cullan looked at me closely then, and I could see a gentleness in his gaze that he, my most ironic brother, did not usually show.

  “It is to be expected, Sister,” he said kindly. “They are newlyweds, and she wishes to be with him. You must step aside for now.”

  His words enraged me. “I am not jealous of her!” I shouted, feeling unwelcome tears press behind my eyes. I willed them back. “She is a witch and I know it! You promised to bring Riona here to prove it!”

  Cullan sighed and picked up his cloak. “Very well, Meriel. If it will set your mind at ease, I shall ask Riona to come tomorrow.”

  “Do you promise?” I demanded.

  “Yes, I promise,” he said, his tone a little irritated now. “I am late—I must go. Behave yourself when I am gone!”

  “And you too,” I said automatically, our customary parting words.

  I left the room, and in the hall I saw Lady Orianna, straightening yet another new portrait. She paid no mind to me, and I just as pointedly ignored her as I ran past her to my bedchamber. I did not usually like to spend much time there, but just now it seemed a haven from all the unpleasant changes that were transforming the rest of the castle. It was a pretty place, sunny and bright in daytime and cozy at night, with lacy curtains and bedspread, a glass-topped dressing table, and flowered carpets. Though I would not have chosen to decorate it so daintily, I knew my mother had picked the furnishings when I was but a baby, so I did not mind them as much as I might have.

  I let Mistress Tuileach find me there. I had escaped her clutches all day with my stealth and spying, and she was not pleased.

  “You will be behind in your lessons,” she scolded, brushing my unruly hair smooth as I sat before the dressing table, buttoning my nightdress.

  “Behind what?” I asked belligerently, and she sighed much as Cullan had done.

  “Oh, child, you are as prickly as a nettle,” she said sadly.

  I turned to her then, repentant. “I don’t mean to be, Mistress Tuileach, truly. I will be better tomorrow.”

  “Good,” she said, “for nettles are not very pleasant to hug.” Then, to my shock, she leaned down and gave me a brief squeeze, her arms warm and welcoming around me. She had never embraced me before. I hugged her back, surprised and pleased, crawled into bed, and fell asleep with a smile on my face.

  And in the morning when I woke, my brothers, all five, were gone.

  3

  The Swans:

  And Where They Swam

  They are gone? What do you mean, gone?” I asked Mistress Tuileach numbly. She had been dispatched to give me the news, for obviously Father feared a tantrum or worse from me on hearing it. But I was too distraught to do anything but stare at my governess as she spoke.

  “They have been sent to school,” Mistress Tuileach reported, watching me anxiously. She paused a moment and added, “They must have left before dawn, for I did not see them go.”

  “School? But they have a tutor. And Darrock is surely too old for school—Cullan too!” I protested.

  “It is a special school, the queen says. All the noble boys and princes from her kingdom go there to be trained for their roles in manhood. Your brothers will learn the ways of kings there, she says. And it seems that your father agrees.”

  “But . . . ,” I said, my voice trailing off. The queen says! Of course it was Lady Orianna’s doing. “It did not take her long,” I muttered.

  “What did you say, child?” Mistress Tuileach asked, laying out my clothes for the day. She darted little glances at me, waiting, no doubt, for an outburst. But my heart was like a nut in my chest, small and dark and hard, and I could not tell whether I felt anger or despair.

  “Nothing,” I said, and I dressed quietly, my mind racing. Around my neck I fastened the necklace I always wore, a small sapphire on a gold chain that Cullan had given me for my last name day. It was very precious to me.

  “Mistress Tuileach,” I said as I sat before the mirror so she could brush and braid my hair, “how long will they be at school? Will they come home for visits?”

  “I do not know,” Mistress Tuileach replied, tying a green ribbon on my braid to match my overdress. “There, the ribbon brings out the green in your eyes.”

  I stared at my reflection without seeing it. I did not care about the color of my eyes. “I think they will not visit,” I said, half to myself. “I think we will not see them at all.”

  “Try to eat a little breakfast, Your Highness,” Mistress Tuileach urged, and I took a slice of bread from the tray Mistress Tuileach had brought and buttered it. But I knew I could not force it past the lump in my throa
t, so I laid it back on the plate.

  “I am going for a walk,” I said.

  “Your father told me that the queen does not want you wandering about as you have in the past. And it will rain, I believe,” my governess said. I ignored her words about Lady Orianna and went to the closet to pull out my boots. For once, Mistress Tuileach did not nag me to stay and practice my singing or stitching, but let me go in silence.

  I slipped through the halls and down to the cellars, where there was a side door often left unguarded. Now, however, there was a man in red livery standing before it, and my heart sank. Then I realized it was not one of the queen’s men but our own guard Ogan, dressed in the same uniform as Lady Orianna’s guards. I marched up to him.

  “I am going for a walk,” I announced confidently, although I was not sure whether he would let me pass.

  He gazed at me thoughtfully, then looked around to make sure no one observed us and stood aside. I slipped past him, bowing my head in a way that I hoped conveyed thanks, and dodged behind bushes until I was sure I was far enough from the castle to walk on the lane.

  As I strode along under lowering clouds, I was entirely lost in my own dark thoughts. I had no idea what to think of Father. It seemed a terrible betrayal, to send away his sons at his wife’s insistence. I knew that before the lady Orianna had entered his life, he would never have dreamed of doing such a thing, and I was angry at him in a way I never had been before. I held silent conversations of blame and accusation with him in my mind, so absorbed that I nearly collided with a girl hurrying past me.

  “Excuse me, milady,” the girl said, and I nodded distractedly. Then she spoke again. “Princess Meriel? Is that you?”

  I turned to look at her, awakened from my reverie. She was very pretty, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old, with long dark curls, deep blue eyes, and vividly flushed cheeks and lips. She wore an undyed linen overdress and wooden shoes, and I marked her for the daughter of a tradesman. But I was wrong.

  “I am Riona, your brother Cullan’s friend,” she said. She smiled at me, making her face even lovelier. Without warning, in the warmth of that smile, I burst into tears.