‘Not much. My father experimented, trying to create medicines. But he allowed me into his laboratory only a handful of times.’ I see the room in my mind’s eye: tables covered in notebooks and jars and glass vessels, the air thick with smoke and strange scents. It’s been locked up since he died. ‘Why?’
‘I know someone – an alchemist of sorts. He works with plants from outside the kingdom mostly. Trying to find out how they can harm, how they can help. He discovered a rare herb, a couple of years ago now, and from this herb he developed a potion. When given to the flightless, this potion emphasises the dominant aspect of their personality: bravery, recklessness, whatever. But when given to our kind, it has a more extreme effect. If you take it, it will force you to transform. Your conscious mind will have no say in the matter.’ He pauses, drumming his fingers the bench. ‘Now, I don’t exactly know what difficulties you are having. Odette mentioned pain …’
He waits, leaving the sentence hanging.
I press my hands against the uncertainty churning below my ribcage, studying Siegfried’s face. His expression is open; there’s no trace of deceit that I can detect. If I continue, I am putting my life – and the future of my dominion – into his hands. But if I do nothing, in a few weeks’ time –
Lord Hawkin’s screams of agony are too fresh in my memory.
‘It’s true there’s pain. The skin on my back … it didn’t mend properly. But I lied to Odette. It’s not that I don’t want to transform. It’s …’ I close my eyes as I force the words out. ‘It’s that I can’t.’ My voice trembles as I speak my secret. But there is also a sudden, unexpected surge of relief. ‘Can you really help me, Siegfried? And this potion – is it safe?’ I know enough to know that these elixirs have side effects.
‘I promise you, it is safe. It’s been extensively tested. Would you like to try it?’
I don’t reply. The very first thing Lucien told me was to trust no one. This could all be part of a plan to kill me, or cripple me.
‘I understand why you’re nervous,’ Siegfried says quietly. ‘The canker that sits at the heart of our kingdom is a threat to us all. But soon I’ll be married to the heir to the throne. I can help you. I can protect you. But only if you’ll let me.’
We look at each other.
‘Very well.’
He nods. ‘I’m glad. And I’m honoured by your trust in me, Your Grace.’ He lays his fingers lightly over mine. ‘Keep trusting me. You’ll have no cause to regret your honesty.’
I sigh, hoping he is right.
‘Do you know the lake in the far corner of the gardens?’ he asks. ‘The one planted round with juniper trees?’
‘Yes.’
‘The moon is waxing. And it looks as if we’ll have a clear evening. Slip out after dinner and meet me there.’ He squeezes my hand. ‘Tonight, you’ll fly again.’
I don’t know how I get through the rest of the day. I try to study, but I can’t concentrate. I pick up the latest letter from Lord Lancelin, asking for my decision on a boundary dispute that has arisen back home, but I find myself reading the same line over and over again. Eventually I give up and sit, staring out of the window, until it’s time to dress for dinner. Lucien escorts me as usual. I don’t ask him where he was this morning, and since he doesn’t ask me about my day I’m spared the necessity of lying. Aron notices my lack of appetite and draws attention to it, asking which of my suitors I’m pining for, exposing me to the obsequious attentions of Patrus. But finally the banquet ends. Once we are in the long gallery I make an excuse about my head aching, and slip away.
First I return to my rooms, where I swap my teal-blue evening dress for a long robe and lock my mother’s ring away in my jewel case. I’ve already told Letya not to wait up for me. By the time I get down to the gardens, having taken the most circuitous route I can think of to confuse the watching guards, the tendons in my neck and shoulders are singing with tension. The lake is a forty-minute walk from the upper terrace behind the palace. My feet crunch too loudly against the gravel. Every shadow among the trees and flower beds seems as if it might be concealing an enemy.
To my relief, Siegfried is already waiting for me. His silver-blond hair glimmers in the darkness; like me, he’s wearing a robe.
‘You came.’ He sounds a little surprised.
‘I said that I would.’ There’s a small glass vial tucked into his palm. ‘Is that it?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid it doesn’t taste very nice. The antidote –’ he taps a small leather pouch hanging from a cord around his neck – ‘is a little more palatable.’
‘Antidote?’
‘To reverse the transformation. I’ll administer it to you when we return. Don’t worry: I’ve tried them both. You’ll be fine.’ He walks to the edge of the lake, and I follow. Together we wade a little way out, until the water comes nearly to our knees. He turns to face me. ‘Shall we?’
My breath suddenly seems to be lodged in my lungs. I knew I would have to disrobe – it’s possible to transform while dressed, but definitely not advisable. Now it comes to it, though, the thought of uncovering myself before him terrifies me. ‘It’s been so long –’
‘I understand. Shall I go first?’
Without waiting for an answer, Siegfried undoes the fastenings of his robe and lets it slip into the lake.
Under the moonlight, his skin shines like marble. I try to keep my eyes fixed on his face. ‘My back … it’s very scarred, from the attack –’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Perhaps he sees that my hands are shaking, because he walks behind me and reaches around to the clasps of my robe. ‘May I?’
I can’t speak, but I nod and close my eyes, until I feel the fabric lift from my shoulders. The cool night air brushes my body.
‘There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ Still behind me, Siegfried passes me the vial. ‘That’s one dose. Drink it all.’
‘And then what?’
‘And then the potion will do its work.’
Quickly, so I can’t change my mind, I lift the vial to my lips and tip my head back. The potion is bitter and earthy. I swallow it in one draft, trying not to breathe, and wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. Siegfried takes the empty bottle. And then –
And then, I feel as if a fire has ignited inside me. It’s like the warmth that comes with wine, but far more potent: it penetrates my core and pounds through my veins and seems to spill outward from my skin, enveloping me, lifting me up. Perhaps I stumble, because I feel Siegfried’s hands on my arms, his breath on my neck.
‘Steady, Aderyn.’ His voice is soothing. ‘There’s really nothing to fear. The elixir will simply compel you to be what you were born to be.’
I take a slow, deep breath, and then another, and then –
A brief, far-off echo of pain and terror, as the moment of transition comes upon me. Too far off to disturb me, detached as I am, pinned in the warm embrace of the potion. A far quicker transition than I remember when I initiated the process myself: rapid – breathless – a sudden lengthening of arms and lightening of bones and eruption of feathers through skin – a shift of balance, a falling –