The Wild Swans (20 page)

Prince Toril beamed
, happy with Brida, Elise, and in all likeliness, himself. “It is no trouble at all. Good day to both of you, and welcome to Ostfold,” he said before hefting himself back in the saddle and disappearing over the crest of the hill.

“
That is one odd prince,” Brida said before she pulled the horses over to a makeshift shelter. Judging by the short fence, it had been constructed for goats, but the lean-to and water trough would be good enough for horses as well-trained as Brida’s and Falk’s.

Elise nodded
, even though Brida couldn’t see her, and gathered up the saddle bag that held her three finished shirts.

“This will suit
us fine, don’t you think Fürst—Elsa?” Brida asked as she emerged from the lean-to and headed for the cottage. The captain had to lean heavily against the door to open it, and almost fell inside when the door finally gave.

The inside of the cottage
was cramped and dusty, but there was a fireplace, a crude counter, and two rickety chairs. A ladder led to a loft filled with sweet-smelling straw that would serve as a bed.

Elise heaved her knitt
ing projects inside before she offered Brida a smile.

“I agree
. I like it, too,” Brida said, even though Elise hadn’t spoken. “We will be quite comfortable here. Your brothers made the right decision.”

Elise hoped she
was right, but she couldn’t help but feel a nagging shard of doubt wiggling in the back of her mind. She left the cottage to watch her foster brothers splash in the lake, but her gaze was drawn to the bits of the royal palace she could see over the hill.

Although everyone appeared happy
, and all of Ostfold was beautiful, Elise felt somehow the tidy exterior was used to cover a dark secret.

Chapter 10

“Everyth
ing
seems
well enough,” Steffen said.

“It will be harder for us to find food. Snow fed bodies of water typical
ly don’t have fish in them—the waters are too cold,” Erick said.

“Perhaps Prince Toril will realize
that and give Elise food for us?” Nick said.

“So we will
have to choose between bugs and bird food. Funny, I never thought I would have to make that decision in my life,” Gerhart said from the cottage loft.

Brida
, Elise, and the seven princes were crowded inside the cottage—more to keep anyone from seeing them than for shelter purposes.

“The th
ing to concentrate on is that we are all here, and we all made it safely. Elise only has three and a half shirts left. We’re halfway to freedom,” Erick said.

“Yes
, so everyone take this moment to give thanks to Elise,” Steffen said.

“Thank you
, sister,” Nick grinned, affectionately ruffling Elise’s hair.

“Thank you
, Elise,” Rune said, reaching out to touch her before Falk smacked him. “Ouch.”

“If we stay on our guard
, we should be able to pass the remainder of our cursed days idly,” Steffen said. “No questionable behavior. Everyone, act like swans.”

“Yes
, brother.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Bossy brute.”

Elise couldn’t help the laugh
that bubbled up from her stomach, which drew grins from her brothers. They spent the remainder of the hour in high spirits and lighthearted chatter.

Elise’s time at Ostfold fell into a predictable pattern. She rose with the sun and sat outside on a smooth rock and knitted until the kitchen girl arrived with oatmeal for Elise and Brida and cracked corn for the
swan princes.

After breakfast
, Elise went back to knitting, and Brida stole away into the woods to practice her stances and weaponry out of sight of the palace. At noon, they usually snacked on berries Brida found and bread left behind by the kitchen girl. After more hours of knitting, the kitchen girl returned with dinner—usually mutton or creamed fish soup.

Soldiers on horseback rode past twice a day
, patrolling a circuit around the lake.

Prince Toril visited several times a week to plead with Elise to speak to him.

“I know you must be able talk. Your bear-maid speaks for both of you, and she doesn’t seem the type to be extraordinarily good at reading body language,” he said during the second week since their arrival at Ostfold.

Elise on
ly smiled and shook her head as she kept knitting.

“Why do you do this? Why do you put yourself through
this? It must be for a purpose,” Prince Toril persisted.

Elise paused her work long enough to lay a hand on the back of her companion swan. Would it be harmful to give Prince Toril the main reason
, the heart of why she worked so laboriously in spite of the pain? She didn’t think so.

Elise winced when she realized she left behind a set of bloody fingerprints on the snow white feathers of her companion swan
, but she turned to Prince Toril and attempted to make several different signs and motions.

“For love?” Prince Toril said
, surprisingly able to interpret her gestures. “You do all of this for love?”

Elise nodded and went back to knitt
ing.

Prince Toril thoughtful
ly stared at the swans that floated on the surface of the lake. “You must really love them,” he finally said.

Elise smiled
, the lines of her face softening with the gesture.

Prince Toril nodded a few times. “I will leave you to your knitt
ing. I’m leaving for another hunting trip in a few days, but do not fear—the kitchen girl will still bring food,” he said as he stood. “I wish you luck with your task,” he said, walking off before Elise could even try to sign or gesture anything to him.

Elise turned to her swan companion and shrugged.

One of the many things Elise was learning during this trial was that royal princes were moody creatures.

Several days later
, Elise was sitting alone and knitting with her pile of finished shirts when four soldiers marched down the hill and up to her.

“K
ing Torgen has asked for your presence in the palace,” a soft spoken soldier said, exchanging an uneasy glance with his fellow warriors.

Gett
ing a terrible sense of déjà vu, Elise moved to toss her knitting in the cottage.

“K
ing Torgen wishes that you would bring your work with you,” the soldier said.

Eli
se gathered the shirts in her arms, her desire to keep them safe overriding the pain of the nettles scratching her arms. She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if she should whistle for Brida, but one of the soldiers gently steered her forward before she had the chance.

The soldiers brought Elise past the
servants’ quarters, through the royal gardens, and into the splendid, wooden palace.

The servants and people they ran into and saw seemed nice enough
, although everyone moved with quick, nervous energy.

Elise’s stomach
was rolling by the time they reached the dining room, where King Torgen sat near a fireplace with two wolfhounds.

“So you brought the
street rat that captured Toril’s attention? Good work,” King Torgen said.

Unlike
his easy-going son, King Torgen looked mean-spirited. He reminded Elise of an inbred dog. His features should have been handsome, but they were too strong, and his eyes were lit with a strange, feverish light.

“She’s not much to look at. What is your name
, girl?” the king demanded.

“My Lord
, the girl is mute. Her traveling companion calls her Elsa,” the quiet soldier said.

Elise hunched her shoulders to and tried to look intimidated. It
wasn’t very hard—King Torgen seemed to burn with deep hatred and anger.

“Try
ing to get Toril’s attention so you can be queen, hmm?” he said.

Elise shook her head.

“Hah, like one could believe you. Toril will not be charmed by you for long. He moves from one love to the next with great indiscretion. Soon you will be another face he wooed and forgot,” King Torgen said.

Elise could tell the four soldiers surround
ing her were uncomfortable with the topic. Although they did not shift, the wooden shafts of the spears they held cracked as they clenched their weapons.

“You
have the look of a mongrel. You aren’t from Verglas, are you?” King Torgen said. “Is she?” he said, fixing his gaze on the soldier who spoke for her earlier.

The soldier cleared his throat. “I
was told she comes from Loire.”

“Loire?
That foreign filth? Pah! I cannot believe Toril has defiled Ostfold with her presence,” the King Torgen said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m told that in addition to your traveling companion, you brought seven swans with you. Gifts for my table, perhaps?”

Elise violent
ly shook her head.

“I believe they are pets
, My Lord,” the soldier said, taking pity on Elise.

Elise eager
ly nodded.

K
ing Torgen fell silent, which made Elise even more uncomfortable than when he spoke. He stared at her with feverish intensity, and Elise could see unreadable thoughts churning in his mind.

He reminded her of Clotilde
, but more twisted. Clotilde was a bigger threat because of her dark magic, but her motivation was her selfishness and greed. King Torgen was like an abandoned well. No one knew how deep the hole went, or what monstrosities the darkness hid.

K
ing Torgen stood and walked a slow circle around Elise, making the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

After mak
ing a full circuit, King Torgen leaned in and whispered to Elise, “I don’t know who you are, but I recognize the signs of a task taken up for the sake of breaking a curse.” King Torgen’s breath was foul. It smelled like stale wine and decayed, mushy onions.

Elise’s eyes watered
, but she fixed a meek look on her face as King Torgen continued. “I don’t have much sympathy for simpletons who are cursed. They deserve it,” he hissed before he ripped the nettle shirts out of Elise’s hands. “What do we have here? This is obvious the work of black magic,” King Torgen said, inspecting the four shirts.

“With all
due respect, My Lord, wouldn’t the Snow Queen’s magic kept her out of our borders if her work is evil?” the soldier asked.

K
ing Torgen narrowed his eyes at the kind soldier. “Perhaps. But one can never be too careful,” he said, walking towards the fireplace.

Elise saw what he meant to do and lunged for him. The soldiers grabbed her and held her back
, but they couldn’t bear to look at their monarch.

When K
ing Torgen reached the crackling fire he turned around and draped three of the shirts over his arm. He held the last shirt—the unfinished one—up as if to inspect it.

Elise shook her head and reached out
, pleading for mercy.

K
ing Torgen smiled—a sick, twisted smile—and dropped the shirt in the fire. “Black magic is not tolerated in Verglas.”

Elise opened and closed her mouth
, unable to beg as her weeks of hard work burned up and turned into ash. The green nettles and endless loops turned ash gray as they caught fire and shrank, curling in the heat of the fire. Soon not a stitch of the first shirt remained. Elise hooked her eyes on the second shirt King Torgen held and struggled against the soldiers.

K
ing Torgen dropped the second shirt in the fire. He stared at Elise, smiling in delight as he observed her despair.

The fire hissed and crackled as it consumed the second
shirt, ripping apart what took Elise weeks of pain, dedication, and love to accomplish.

Elise
was crying by the time King Torgen took the third shirt from where it was draped over his arm. Tears poured down her face.
Please
, she mouthed.

“No
,” King Torgen said before he dropped the shirt. He clapped his hands as Elise sank to her knees, her tears falling like raindrops. There was a roaring in her ears as she stared at the greedy fire that burned the third shirt.

Her foster-brothers
were doomed to remain swans. All of Elise’s work was for naught.

Her ears rang
, and Elise knew she was losing control of herself as the last loops of the third shirt were devoured by orange flames.

K
ing Torgen laughed, and Elise clenched her bruised, oozing, and welt covered hands into fists. All of her pain, every moment she had spent knitting was
wasted
.

Elise caught the thought and shook her head. The capes
were gone, yes. But Elise would never call an attempt, even a failed attempt, to free her foster brothers, to free Rune, Steffen, Falk, Erick, Nick, Mikk, and Gerhart a
waste
.