Hope makes your pulse jump, your breath come quick. But there’s steadiness in disappointment—a certainty of your place in life, even if you never wanted to be there.
So it was easy to leave the next morning, striding across the fields between Castle Hill and the forest. My duty was clear: I’d retrieve the nettle tunics and bring them back to Fianna, where I’d make the sixth tunic. I wouldn’t share the truth of my brothers’ enchantment with anyone. And when my brothers were free, we would return to Lacharra.
I’d be content with the gift of a people who were happy to have Carrick and me live among them. I’d never expected any help before—why was I so disappointed now?
I swung my cudgel in a savage arc through the air, cutting the heads off weeds that grew beside my path.
At least I’d see my swan-brothers after so many weeks! I’d stroke their sleek feathers and hear their trumpeting across the lake. I’d tickle Owain-the-hen beneath her wattle.
I would hold the tunics in my hands again and know that the work of five years hadn’t been lost.
And yet . . . I missed the castle. I missed Carrick.
I shook away thoughts of Ionwyn and the Ri, focusing on the journey ahead. Now that I’d reached the forest, I worried whether I could find where the cave’s deer trail met the road. I’d been so anxious to find Carrick a month ago that I hadn’t looked about me, simply burst out into the road.
My plan depended on finding that trail quickly.
I walked through the day, keeping a sure and steady pace, eating my trail bread as I walked, and never stopping.
But I overestimated my ability to find the trail. By nightfall, I knew I’d passed it.
I also knew I’d never find it in the dark. I’d have to sleep in the forest, where a search party might find me—though I hoped there wouldn’t be one. The Ri’s honor was bound primarily to Carrick. So long as Carrick was safe, there’d be little reason to pursue me.
I moved off the road and into the trees, using my cudgel to be sure there were no animal burrows in the brush.
It had been years since I’d slept alone in the forest.
The size and darkness pressed against me all over again. Every creak of a tree, every rustle, every call from one animal to another seemed foreign. I lay down, pulled Tanwen’s cloak around me, and prayed that sleep would come soon.
* * *
As soon as the sun rose, I retraced my steps. Two hours later, I found the trail curving off to my right. I darted down it, almost running. I’d lost so much time.
Please let the tunics still be there!
I heard the voices not long after.
“Lady Wyn!”
“Lass!”
I turned, my heart sinking when I saw the Ri and Finn.
I cursed missing the trail, cursed the muteness that kept me from explaining my errand, cursed whatever devilry had helped the Ri find me so quickly.
Then I saw the horse-rod in the Ri’s hand as they walked toward me. Of course. If they’d left Fianna before dawn, they could have found the trail not long after I had. Finn’s tracking skill would have made sure of that.
“Ionwyn told us you’d not returned late last night, and we’ve chased after you ever since!” Finn settled into the scolding the way a runner finds his stride. “What were you thinking, leaving your babe like that? And the Ri’s honor? What will chieftains and folk alike say if the one he shelters is lost in the forest?”
I only grew more determined. My anger was like a stone inside me, and I held to it. It was time to fetch the tunics—nothing else mattered.
I pointed down the trail toward the lake. It wasn’t a question, only an explanation: I will walk there.
Finn grunted. “This isn’t the time for exploring, lass.”
I glared at him, almost wishing he’d refuse to let me go farther. I’d use my cudgel and feel nothing but satisfaction if only I could land a single, good blow.
Instead, I stalked down the trail, leaving them behind.
The Ri leaped ahead and planted himself in the trail before me. “Why are you here, Lady Wyn?”
Why am I here?
What I would have given to be able to shout! I’m here because you wouldn’t let me go! Because there aren’t enough pictures and signs in the world to explain what has happened!
I softened a little at the concern in the Ri’s eyes. Because it’s best that you don’t know.
Then I pointed down the trail again. I WILL go there!
The Ri didn’t blink, though his mouth compressed, just a little, as if he was holding back a flood of words.
I hardened my heart to it.
When he spoke, his voice was even. Calm. “Ionwyn told me your story, as much as she understood: you saw your six brothers slaughtered by your father’s wife, and you escaped that blood-feud with your brother’s son. You signed to her that you were safe, but Ionwyn said your eyes told a different story.” He made no effort to hide his irritation. “How do you expect me not to worry when you leave without protection?”
This wasn’t about his honor, then.
I wanted him to leave. I didn’t want him to see where I’d lived, to have any opportunity to understand the enchantment—or become convinced of my insanity.
But I needed the nettle tunics. So I pressed my hand over my heart and pointed down the path. There’s something dear to me.
“There’s naught but a lake down this trail,” said Finn.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” asked the Ri. “That’s why you kept trying to leave.”
Yes!
Finn raised his hands to the sky in mock entreaty. “If she wanted to come here, why didn’t she ask—?” He dropped his hands. “Ah. There’s the difficulty.”
He finally understood. Before I could think better of it, I kissed him on the cheek.
Finn slapped a rough hand over the spot, whether to press the kiss closer or keep it from settling, I couldn’t tell.
The Ri chuckled at Finn’s discomfort, then grew serious once more. “Finn and I will walk wherever you wish to go. Lead on, Lady Wyn.”
Lead on to everything I’d tried to hide for five years.
I had no choice: I motioned them to follow me.
* * *
An hour later, we reached the lake, and I forgot my anxiety for a heartbeat. I’d missed the way the sunlight scattered on the water! I held a hand to my eyes to shield them from the glare and saw my swan-brothers at the far end of the lake, all six of them.
But no Owain-the-hen.
I had to be sure of the tunics before I greeted my brothers. I didn’t think I could face them, even as swans, until I knew all was well.
I held up a finger to the Ri and Finn—Wait—then scampered up the boulders to the cave. I paused at the opening till my eyes adjusted, then slipped inside. The floor was covered with wild goat droppings. Torn and chewed bedding lay strewn around the cave.
But the tunics still hung in their satchel from the outcropping, right next to the bag that held my brothers’ clothes. I dashed to it, dodging goat droppings as I went. A moment later, the satchel was mine. I rummaged through it to be sure of the spindle, the hackle, and all five tunics, then hugged it close, careful of the hackle’s spikes.
Then I saw that the bag of clothes was knotted differently from how I usually closed it. I tugged it down, imagining my brothers here the last full moon: alone, scrabbling in the dark, empty cave to find their clothes. Find me.
I couldn’t think of it. I’d have clothes for them this time, when they settled at the lake near the castle.
A flash of dark in the entrance, a rush of feathers—
Owain-the-hen launched herself at me.
My arms were full, but Owain took no notice. She perched on top of the bags and pressed her head against my cheek, clucking and scolding as if she’d never forgive me.
I dropped something to free a hand, scooped her closer to me . . . and cried silently, head bent over her feathery back.
My brothers would want answers when they saw me next. But Owain-the-hen? She just wanted me. So I let her scold and I let myself cry for just a moment longer, soaking up the comfort she offered.
The light streaming in from the cave entrance dimmed.
Finn and the Ri stood in the entrance—two black shadows against the light.
I shifted Owain-the-hen to my shoulder and swiped a sleeve across my eyes. Silly as it sounded, I felt better able to answer his questions.
The outline of the Ri moved as he looked around the cave. “Your refuge, Lady Wyn?”
Refuge. Of course. He imagined me the lone survivor of a blood feud.
And perhaps he saw it more clearly than most.
I nodded slowly.
Finn stepped into the cave, cursing when he trod in goat dung. The Ri followed him, moving more carefully, taking in all the details: scattered blankets, a basket overturned and slightly eaten . . .
. . . the hen on my shoulder, pecking at me as if she was a mother smoothing her child’s hair.
“I never,” muttered Finn.
I raised an eyebrow, daring him to mention Owain. He turned his attention elsewhere.
“I don’t understand,” said Finn, nodding toward the bag I clutched. “You came all this way—you left your babe—for bags?”
I glared at Finn. If he thought I was going to reveal the things I valued most just because he asked, he’d be sorely disappointed.
The Ri picked up the satchel I’d dropped, wincing when his hand closed around the hackle. I quickly gathered it from him, pulling out a few of the tunics and rearranging the contents so the hackle wouldn’t spear anyone.
When I looked up, the Ri was fingering the sleeve of one of the tunics. “Is it made from nettles?”
Suddenly, the cave seemed too small, my secret too big. I needed to go. I needed to leave now. I plucked the tunic from his hands and stuffed it back into the satchel.
“How many shirts do you have?” he asked.
Refusing to answer might make him even more curious. After a moment, I held up five fingers.
“And you’ve already gathered nettles for one more shirt, haven’t you? Six shirts for the six dead brothers Ionwyn told me about. Am I right?”
He thought the tunics were simply part of my mourning.
Yes.
“Ionwyn says you were the youngest of these siblings?”
I smiled to hear such a common question—as if there wasn’t an enchantment or Hunters or a Queen we hid from.
Yes.
“You were! Aye, that makes many things clear—including why a lass would wield a cudgel so well.”
He swept an arm toward the light at the cave entrance. “We’ll follow after you, Lady Wyn. Unless you have anything else you wish to take?”
I looked around the cave one last time. Goat-chewed blankets. A weir I’d been repairing weeks ago. I scooped up one of Carrick’s toys, settling it into the satchel with my brothers’ clothes.
Then I walked into the light and down to the lake, hurrying down the boulders so that I reached the shore ahead of Finn and the Ri. I set the bag and satchel on a boulder and attempted to lift Owain from my shoulder, but the hen would have none of it.
Finn joined me, and I held a warning finger up to him so he would leave the satchel and bag alone. He held his hands up, and I realized it was all I could hope for. So I stripped off my boots and twisted my skirts up above my knees. Then I waded into the shallows and slapped the water, watching my brothers at the far end of the lake.
Several turned toward me. I slapped the water again.
My brothers sprang to life, wings beating the air as they skimmed over the water toward me. Owain did not like to have my swan-brothers so near. She ruffled her feathers in alarm, her toes digging into my shoulder. A moment later, the swans surrounded me, their wings splashing so much water that I gave up any thought of staying dry and let my skirt fall into the shallows.
One of the swans—Declan, I thought—swam close enough that I could stroke his neck. He chortled and clucked with pleasure, angling his neck first one way and then another so that I could scratch every inch. The others were close too, and I could see as they swirled around me that their white flight feathers had grown in. They could fly now, though I wasn’t certain I liked the thought. They’d follow me to the castle just before the full moon as they always had, and then nest there. Would they be safe at the lake so near the castle? What would the people think of black swans?
What would the Ri think?
I turned to face him, a hen on my shoulder, my wet skirts clinging to my knees while my swan-brothers swam graceful circles around me. He watched the swans intently, and I knew he was trying to make sense of the story Ionwyn had told him: brothers and swans and something evil.
“Black swans!” Finn stomped up to the lake’s edge and eyed them with mistrust. “What natural beast has red eyes?”
“They’ll follow you, won’t they?” asked the Ri.
Yes.
“Don’t worry for them, Lady Wyn,” he said. “We’ll make sure no harm comes to them when they venture closer to the castle.”
I nodded again.
“That’ll be a chore and a half,” said Finn. “But no doubt Ionwyn will have a clever idea to help. How many are there?”
“Six,” said the Ri, never taking his eyes from my brothers. “There are six black swans.”
Would he guess the truth? Or decide I truly was a girl from the forest, driven mad from witnessing a blood feud? I’d have sooner stood before the Ri naked than wait to see which of the two he decided.
I splashed to the lake’s edge, wringing the water from my skirt. I was almost grateful I was mute—it saved me from having to explain all that the Ri and Finn had seen.
But the Ri continued to watch my swan-brothers.
Six brothers.
Six swans.
Five nettle tunics, and nettles for one more.
“When I first saw you”—he turned to me—“I thought you were mad. And then, I thought you were frightened. And now I think you are guarding something. Carrick, of course. But there’s more, something else you try to keep safe.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it is yourself, but I don’t think so.”
I waited for him to ask a question I couldn’t answer. I waited for an accusation of witchcraft.
Instead the Ri watched me as if he could see past skin and bone. It was like when I’d begged him to take Carrick and me with him, praying he would see me and not the crazy girl who’d burst from the woods and attacked him.
Once more, the Ri offered me shelter.
“Hear me, Lady Wyn, without kin in this world: I will protect you as you have protected me. And even if you hadn’t begged my hospitality so many months ago, I would protect you still. My honor on it. My life on it.”