‘I am glad to see you again, Aderyn. It has been too many years since my poor brother shut himself away at Merl. I was much grieved to learn of his death.’
Somehow, I do not believe him.
I take a deep breath. ‘I thank Your Majesty. My father’s death was a misfortune for all of his people. The condolences we received from you and the queen were of great comfort.’ These are the words Lucien told me to say, the words we agreed upon. ‘But,’ I continue, ‘I am not flightless, uncle. I cannot imagine who would have told you such a lie.’
A risk, to challenge the king the moment I arrive in court. But if I lose this game we are apparently playing, I will lose everything.
‘Really?’ He leans back, studying me. ‘And yet you arrived by coach …’ Another swell of laughter from the courtiers around us, slightly louder than before.
‘On the recommendation of my doctors, Your Majesty. I was injured recently. The coach journey allowed me to rest, and to see more of the kingdom. It is true that I have not cared much for flying since witnessing my mother’s murder,’ there is a ripple of whispered conversation behind me as I speak the word, ‘but I am not flightless.’
A young couple moves towards the dais. The girl, wearing a simple white dress, is beautiful enough to take my breath away. She has no crown – her mass of silver-blonde hair is stunning enough without adornment – but I know she must be the Princess Odette. Which means the boy next to her must be her brother, Aron. Both have the same hair colour, the same high cheekbones and sensuously moulded lips, though there is a stubborn arrogance to the set of Aron’s jaw that is missing from his sister’s face. He is dressed all in black – a striking contrast to his shock of hair – and it takes me a moment to see the empty sleeve pinned to the front of his tunic.
‘Well, niece, here are your cousins come to meet you. Odette –’ I bow, and the girl inclines her head and smiles at me, a little uncertainly – ‘and Aron.’ I bow to the prince, but he ignores my gesture, his expression contemptuous.
He turns to his father. ‘My cousin claims she is not flightless. But Atratys is second only to the Crown Estates in importance. Our main ports are there, most of our iron mines, our forests … If she is indeed worthy to be Atratys’s Protector, and to stand second in line to the throne, let her prove herself. Let her transform, if she can.’
Panic twists in my gut like a knife as a cold sweat springs up between my shoulder blades. If I am asked to disrobe here and now, to shift my shape –
The king is shaking his head. ‘Now, my son? In front of the entire court? I would not hear of putting your cousin to such a test.’ My shoulders sag with relief, although I’m sure my uncle is more concerned with his own reputation than my modesty. ‘There is, however, another way in which Lady Aderyn may convince us of her status.’ He looks at me and then points to the servant still standing nearby with the goblet. ‘Burn him.’
‘Father!’ Aron steps forward. ‘That’s not what I –’
‘But you’re right, my son. There are rules. So you will oblige me, Aderyn, by touching this man’s skin.’
Horror forces me to speak. ‘But, Your Majesty, custom forbids –’
‘Forbids?’ The king’s tone is soft, incredulous. ‘Am I not the king? Do I not make the customs?’
I hesitate, just a fraction too long. ‘Of course, Your Majesty.’
He raises one hand and twists it back and forth, looking at the play of light on the coloured gemstones of his rings instead of at me. ‘Rumour travels more swiftly than a coach. Shall I tell you what rumours I have heard in the last few weeks?’ Without waiting for a reply, he continues. ‘It is rumoured that you are not who you say you are. That my niece was killed in the incident that claimed her mother, and that a flightless imposter was set in her place. That my brother, in his grief, was somehow deceived.’
‘But you can’t possibly believe that.’ Despite myself there’s derision in my voice. ‘It’s not true.’
The king lifts his eyes to mine. ‘Then prove it.’
I turn to Lucien, looking for help, for a way out. But he shakes his head – a tiny movement – and lowers his gaze.
‘We are waiting,’ my uncle murmurs. One of the guards near the throne shifts, his fingers straying towards the handle of the throwing axe hanging by his side.
The servant is staring at me. His eyes are full of fear – but what can I do? I take the tray he is carrying and pass it to Lucien. The man is wearing gloves and a tunic with long sleeves.
‘Roll up your sleeve. It will hurt less.’ The man obeys and holds his arm out towards me; he’s trembling. ‘I’m sorry,’ I murmur. Finally I place my hand against his bare skin, wrapping my fingers around his wrist. The man winces as the heat grows, his mouth clamped shut to keep from crying out, but the pain soon becomes too much. He begins to groan, fighting the urge to pull away from me, and I can smell the hair on his arm burning –
‘Enough.’
I let go of the servant. He stumbles backwards, crying, clutching his arm to his chest, his flesh blistered and red. My stomach heaves.
No one is laughing now.
‘Very good, niece. I, of course, had no doubt of your identity, so like your mother as you are. But it is as well you have settled the question, for the benefit of those more … suspicious than me.’ My uncle smiles as he lies; he can’t hide the trace of disappointment in his voice. ‘You see, Aron? Her Grace is clearly not flightless. As for the injury that kept her from making her journey here as a swan, it is, I assume –’ his smile twists – ‘very nearly healed.’
My cousin’s face is cold. ‘Indeed. I look forward to seeing her fly, before long.’
As Aron turns away towards the side exit, the king holds his fingers out to me; I step onto the dark blue carpet of the dais and force myself to kiss them. ‘I am glad to have you here, my dear. I have been considering your marriage. As Aron reminded us, the Dominion of Atratys is important, and we must make sure its future is assured.’ He waves a hand towards the assembled courtiers. ‘There are several of your cousins here who have already expressed their affection for you.’
Affection for my wealth and lands. I wonder which of the men staring at my back he is planning to auction me off to.
My uncle pats my arm. ‘Go and rest now, niece. We will speak further at the feast this evening.’
I bow again and step off the dais, taking my walking stick from the guest master. The courtiers part as I move towards the door at the far end of the throne room. Again there are whispers and sideways glances; again I pretend not to notice. Another servant – one of the guest master’s underlings, I guess – is waiting to conduct me to my apartment. We go up staircases and along corridors and all the time I stare straight ahead, keeping my eyes fixed, my face set. Then we are shown into in a room, and the servant is bowing and handing us some keys, and the door closes and finally, finally I am alone with Lucien.
‘I can’t stay here. I can’t.’ The room is huge but somehow there doesn’t seem to be enough air; I rush to one of the windows and fumble with the catch, trying to force it open. ‘We have to get out of here, go back to Merl. He’s mad, he must be –’