The swan flapped its wings, launching itself at Elise. It caught the bug, but it smacked Elise in the face with its powerful wings that had the force of a swinging sack of potatoes.
“Ouch, go away,” Elise said, her eyes watering with pain as she tried to push the swan off.
The swan chortled and smacked her again with its wings as it left, retreating to the pond.
“Please, please let the Lady Enchantress Angelique succeed in overthrowing Clotilde,” Elise said, holding her throbbing nose.
Surrounded only by animals, nothing answered her.
Elise rubbed down Falk’s horse with bit of cloth she ripped off her black skirt and dipped in the pond.
Her swan brothers floated on the water or puttered around on the shore, looking for bugs and grass to eat.
One swan sat near Elise and the horse, watching them with a tilted head.
Elise offered the swan a smile. “Rune?” she tried.
The swan didn’t move.
Elise glanced at the horse and then back to the swan. “Falk? Do you recognize your horse?”
The swan lunged to its black feet, snapping a bug midair. It chortled to itself before it went back to the pond, drawing a sigh from Elise.
It had been a week, and her brothers still acted like swans. Sometimes she thought one of them might be responding, but it always was because there was a bug buzzing through the air, or they were watching because they were looking at a nearby animal.
Elise wanted to believe that as she was a part of their family—foster child or not—she might be able to stir their memories.
She was having no such luck. She hadn’t even identified Rune, and he was the Royal Prince she was closest to.
Another swan approached Elise.
Elise smiled and extended a hand.
The swan pecked her, pinching and twisting the soft skin on her wrist.
Elise yelped. The swan flapped its wings and moved on, which was a good thing as Elise burned with the desire to kick the white bird. Instead, she clamped a hand over her smarting skin and stared up at the sky.
A raindrop fell on her face. Seconds later, another fat droplet plopped on her nose.
When it started to downpour, Elise breathed in through her nose, carefully gathering up her craving to bawl and strangling it.
A princess didn’t cry. At least, Queen Ingrid wouldn’t have. The Queen would expect Elise to be better than hysterics, as well.
Elise headed for the trees, dragging Falk’s horse by its bridle-turned-halter. A few of the swans joined her long enough to ram into her and hit her with their wings before they returned to the pond, unbothered by the water that slid off their slick feathers.
“If Angelique doesn’t succeed, I will have to do something,” Elise said. “Clotilde might get her wish after all; I might have to marry a foreign prince in order to mobilize his troops to rescue my country.”
The prospect of marrying a foreign dignitary did not delight Elise. She always knew that her Father wouldn’t thoughtlessly auction her off to allies. He would keep her in the country, hopefully letting her wed her choice of men. Preferably she would marry Mertein—who was a good choice as the first son of a prominent noble family. It was the greatest happily ever after Elise could have dared to dream for, and she did.
But now, watching her brothers—watching the swans really—Elise knew if anyone was going to save Arcainia and get rid of Clotilde, it would have to be her.
“Lucien is a toad,” Elise said, thinking of the crown prince of Loire. “But if he is still open to a marriage contract, he may be my best bet.”
Rain continued to fall, filling the air with a steady pitter patting as it fell against tree leaves and the ground.
A swan hissed when another swan pecked it, and Elise closed her eyes.
“I will marry for the sake of Arcainia, for Father, and for my foster brothers if I must,” she said. “I just wish…,” Elise trailed off, unable to finish the thought. She watched the rain fall and thought longingly of the sweet moments she shared with Mertein.
It was dusk. Several more days had passed, and as each day turned into the next, Elise steeled her resolve. It didn’t seem like Angelique, the Lady Enchantress, would be returning.
Elise watched the swans float on the pond, bobbing up and down in the ripples colored by the last rays of the sun. They looked beautiful, the rising moon made their stark white feathers glow as they arched their necks and paddled in the water.
“Another week, maybe two. If I don’t hear from Angelique before then, I will know something must have gone terribly wrong,” Elise said, resting her head on her knees as she sat on the sandy bank that bordered the pond.
One of the swans made a strange, questioning noise.
Elise looked up to see the swan peck at the churning water surface. There was no wind, but waves crested in the pond as if it were part of the ocean.