The Swan Kingdom (6 page)

In the midst of the noise and confusion, I saw Zella stand on tiptoe and whisper something in Father’s ear. He looked surprised for a moment, then, for the first time since he had entered the long room, he turned to his children, huddled against the mantel. He spread his arms wide, and quiet fell again as the crowd waited for him to speak. “Come, children,” he called to us. “You must embrace your new mother.”

There was unreal silence. At my sides, my hands clenched slowly into fists, and this time Robin laid no restraining fingers on my shoulder. But it was David – calm, sensible David – who spoke, his cheeks darkening with rage. “Our mother is dead.”

Before Father could react, Zella stepped forward, smiling. “Yes,” she agreed calmly. “But now I am here.”

That night my brothers and I sat on my bed, the shadows flickering about us. The darkness was filled with fear and doubt, strange voices whispering that we tried not to hear.

In less than a day Zella had conquered the household. She had won over all our people; anyone who was in her presence for more than a few minutes left her company wide-eyed and convinced of her perfection. The few visitors who had been present from other villages and farms had galloped off to spread the news of her arrival with unfocused expressions of bliss. She held Father in the palm of her hand.

How long would it be before she held the whole Kingdom?

“What I don’t understand is why she hasn’t tried to enchant
us
,” said Hugh. “She’s taken control of everyone else, but we still see her for what she is.”

Robin answered for me. “She tried. Didn’t she, Alexa? I felt it when she first woke – you must have too, Hugh. It was like … being drowned. What
I
don’t understand is why it didn’t work.”

I rested my chin on my drawn-up knees. “I think it’s Mother. Her blood in us. It makes us different, gives us the strength to resist Zella – if not defeat her.” I paused, then whispered, “If Mother were here that woman could never have entered this house.”

There was a long silence as my brothers absorbed those words. The same thought was in each of our heads, buzzing in the air between us. Finally, I said it. “I think … I think Zella was the thing that killed Mama.”

Abruptly David stood. “We need to find Father. Get him away from her, alone. If we talk to him, surely we can make him see sense.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s no use, David. He’s besotted. Her grip on him is the strongest of all.”

Robin snorted. “No wonder,” he said bitterly. “She obviously knows his nature well.”

“What?” David looked at us searchingly. “What do you mean?”

Robin shrugged and Hugh didn’t meet my gaze, so I explained wearily. “Think, David. Mother and Father fought like stags in the mating season almost all my life. Mama was tall and strong, with a temper and a fierce will. He couldn’t bend her and it drove him mad. But Zella, now … she’s tiny and outwardly sweet, and she agrees with everything he says. Mama had pale skin and fiery hair; Zella has golden skin and hair like honey. Mama had calloused, ugly hands; Zella has fine, soft ones.” I looked down at my own stubby freckled fingers. “He’d be in love with her even if she had never cast a spell.”

David’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he sat back down on the bed. “Damn him. Damn him for an old fool.”

“Think, Alexa,” Robin urged. “This is all magic, and if there’s one thing you know it’s magic. You’re as strong as her – you stood against her and won.”

“No, I didn’t,” I said grimly. “And no, I’m not. She’s far stronger than I could ever be. What she’s done here is a Great working. But…”

Hugh leaned forward. “Go on.”

“I don’t think – no, I’m
sure
that the form she holds now is not her natural one. I don’t think she’s human.” They stared at me, and I rushed on. “I think her
real
shape is that of the beast which killed Mama. If that’s true, she could not possibly hold her disguise as a woman without aid, not for such a long period as she was closeted with Father this afternoon. An enchantment that complex would drain her completely. Even Mama couldn’t have done such a working without help.”

I stopped and thought. “She must have a talisman. A magical object to keep her shape-changing spells confined within.”

“A talisman?”

“What object?”

“I don’t know.” I rubbed my forehead tiredly. “It could be anything. But since she came here with only the clothes on her back, it must be something small, something she can hold or conceal. Perhaps a ring? And she will keep it close to her at all times. If it were destroyed she would be forced to revert to her true form.”

David nodded decisively. “And even Father couldn’t be blind to that. Somehow we must find this talisman.” He paused, and then said thoughtfully, “Father intends to marry her in three days, but until they are wed she sleeps alone. Could we steal into her bedchamber while she sleeps and search for it?”

“What if she were to wake?” Hugh asked.

“It’s too dangerous,” said Robin, shaking his head. “Perhaps we could trick it from her?”

“No trick would make her give it up. She will always be aware of it, guarding it – except when she sleeps.” I sat up straight. “I think I know a way to lessen the danger. Mama sometimes made up strong vapours that would send the gravely injured into a deep sleep so that the body could heal. If I made an infusion and it was placed in her room just after she fell asleep, the vapours would steal into her nose and throat and make her slumber so deeply that she would not wake even if you shook her. To search the room we would have to cover our own faces with cloths dipped in water – and be quick, for the vapours would, even so, affect us in less than half an hour.”

“How will we recognize the talisman?” asked Hugh.

“I’ll feel it. Don’t worry about that.”

The earliest the required potion could be prepared was the next night and we decided that we should put our plans into action as soon as it was ready.

Perhaps we should have waited, planned more thoroughly; but unspoken between us was the knowledge that time was slipping away faster than we could see. If we did not act soon, it would be too late.

Night had fallen. The powerful mixture of herbs and dried plants was ready, as were the cloths to cover our faces. Zella, with a very pretty curtsy, had pleaded tiredness and left the long hall for her bedchamber nearly an hour ago. All that day my brothers and I had watched her dominion over the household tighten. It seemed that Father fell more and more deeply under her spell every instant.

Preparations for their marriage were well in hand. The women of the household chattered and giggled, almost insensible with excitement at the prospect. The grey and black of mourning that they had all been wearing was packed away and forgotten, replaced by the brightness of summer gowns. New maids and servants were already being summoned from the outlying villages to help with the massive event, for Father wanted to claim his new bride before the whole of the Kingdom.

Through it all Zella smiled sweetly, her dark eyes flat and unblinking, even as she managed a charming blush at my father’s touch on her arm.

Our resolve could be no stronger. It was time.

I gave Robin the ceramic vapour dish with its mesh lid and instructed him how to light it so that the distilled herbs would burn and the vapours would spill out. He was the most sure-footed of us, and would have the task of placing the dish in the chamber.

The muffled sound of our steps seemed unbearably loud as we made our way down the corridor. The passage was deserted, and a disconsolate silence lay over the Hall, though it was barely midnight. No one bothered staying awake after Zella had retired. What would be the point?

We reached the end of the passage in which Zella’s chamber lay without seeing another soul. This was as we had hoped; yet the sensation of moving through an abandoned place made me shiver.

I reached up to tie one of the dampened cloths over Robin’s face, fussing with the knot until he brushed my hands away. “Leave it,” he whispered.

We clustered round the door, listening for any sound within. I did not dare reach into her room through the enaid in case she felt my encroachment and woke. We still had so little idea of the extent of her powers. I could feel her there, the high-pitched buzz of her presence like the whine of a maddened wasp; but the noise seemed subdued – not active.

“Very well,” I whispered finally. “Open the door.”

We stood back as Robin crouched below the handle, reaching up with his free hand to ease it down. He held the door as it opened slightly, pressing his eye to the gap. We waited for another moment, then he looked at us and nodded. He slid through the gap and into the darkness beyond.

I pressed myself against the wall next to the door, as if by willpower I might be able to see through it, and held my breath; but, only a few seconds later, he emerged and gently shut the door behind him.

“She was asleep. I did as you said, Alexa.”

“Then we wait,” I said.

We huddled round the entrance, stiff with tension and praying that no one would come this way and disturb us. The irony of our stealing about like thieves in our own home did not escape us, but we did not know if the household people would defend Zella against us. Had her power gone that deep? The thought of our own people turning on us was so alien that it made me feel sick, but the possibility could not be discounted. Both David and Robin had stout cudgels pushed into their belts, and Hugh his dagger. If we were successful tonight, they would never have to use them.

Eventually I judged that enough time had passed and nodded. We tied the cloths around our faces and opened the door. David went first, nodding that it was all right to follow before he disappeared inside. Robin kept me firmly behind him as he followed Hugh. Once we were all in, David closed the door.

The room was filled with a looming darkness that the dim starlight, falling from the windows opposite, did little to dispel. For a moment we remained together by the door, staring at our tormentor.

Unsurprisingly, Zella had been given the finest room in the Hall. Many years ago, when the ruler of the principality bordering us – Midland – had visited, he had been given this chamber and had expressed his pleasure with it. The greatest glory was the bed. Placed in the centre of the room, it was made of ancient black oak, sunk beautifully into the floor, its four thick posts hung with red and gold draperies. The plentiful cloth hid Zella completely from view.

The scent of the infusion that burned beside the bed, heady even through the cloth tied over my nose and mouth, recalled me to our task. I glanced at my brothers and gestured for them to separate and search. We could not risk lingering. As they scattered to look in the chests and closets, I approached the bed. I had not told my brothers the one fear I had which might ruin our plan: that Zella might sleep with the talisman, whatever it was, clutched tight in her hand. If that were the case then one of us would need to brave the bed to get it, if indeed it could be got.

I hesitated beside the drapes, shuddering as I heard the low hiss of breath issuing from beneath them. It sounded unnervingly like the noise of a snake. The high, irritating buzz of her power made it more difficult than I had thought to locate any separate aura, such as the one a talisman might emit.

I had to get closer.

Carefully I ducked under the nearest swathe of gold fabric and kneeled next to the bed. Zella lay at the exact centre of the mattress, surrounded by a tangled nest of cushions, furs and blankets. She was curled into a tiny ball with her knees drawn up to her chest and her face turned away from me. Her position reminded me of a wild creature. The vibration of power around her seemed dormant; but somehow in sleep it was stronger, as if in private she felt no need to restrain it. I could see the sheen of her hair as it spilled over the heaped pillows, and the smooth texture of the skin on the nape of her neck. The hiss of her breath was louder beneath the roof of cloth. Every fine hair on my body was standing up, my muscles quivering, my breathing coming in quick, shallow puffs.

Then my attention was caught by something. Zella’s tiny, delicate feet were not hidden under the masses of bedding that covered the rest of her; they poked out from beneath a dark fur, with only a swirl of filmy bronze fabric tucked around them. I recognized that fabric. It was the same dress she had worn when Father carried her into the Hall the first time.

My brow wrinkled. Why, with all the fine laces and muslins that must have been offered to her, would she choose to sleep in that? Taking my courage firmly in hand, I reached out and caught one edge of the fabric and gently, gently, tugged it out from around her feet, keeping my eyes all the while on her back. She did not stir. Encouraged, I lifted up the dark fur and carefully pushed it aside, then took hold of a little more of the bronze material and pulled it free. Slowly I managed to free the whole hem of the garment and, forcing my hands to steadiness so that they would not so much as brush her skin, ran my fingers along it. Where the seam ran down the dress and met the one around the bottom, I found it.

It was a lump, slightly too big and too heavy to be mere clumsy stitching. When I touched it I felt a low hum of power, contained and even, like a carefully woven working should be. I wormed one of my fingers into the stitching and ripped it open in a single movement.

A tiny pebble dropped into my hand, nothing more than a river stone, worn smooth by rushing water. It was oval, dark grey, with a jagged line of white quartz crossing its centre. It pulsed in my palm like a miniature heart, making my fingers twitch and shake as they closed over it. Then there was a blast of bloody red light from the pebble. It jumped from my hand like a living thing and landed on Zella’s neck, scurrying across her cheek to her face.

I was up and a foot away from the bed before I even realized I’d moved, opening my mouth to shout. But it was already too late. The buzz of Zella’s power shifted into a high-pitched shriek of rage.

Red light exploded through the room. There was a concussion that shook the walls, made the ground itself heave, and I screamed in agony. Ancestors, the pain… The bones in my head seemed to splinter and the fragments pierce my brain. I collapsed, paralysed, as my mind flooded with horrific images – like a nightmare, except that I knew what I saw was real, was truly happening, as I lay helpless to prevent it.