An instant of panicked struggle against wind and water as some memory lodged deep within my muscles seizes control –
I’m flying. My human mind – submerged, looking out from eyes that have become alien through disuse – knows that I am flying. I feel my wings, beating away the air, lifting me higher. I recognise the twisting streets of the city and the dark waters of the fjord spread below me. There ahead of me is a large white swan, moonlit against the night sky: Siegfried. I hear his voice in my head and my heart races with the jolt of remembrance. How could I have forgotten the secret, speechless communication of flight? But I obey Siegfried’s directions, I follow him, without any act of will, with no conscious control over my actions.
We soar above the Citadel, my wings seeking out the air currents, sweeping wide over the fjord before turning back towards the city. The landing platform, with its long, bright patch of water, is beneath us, and Siegfried is leading me down …
Water beneath me, and my wings folding. Siegfried, already back in human form, is stepping onto the grass that covers the rest of the landing platform. A hooded servant hurries forward, holding out a robe. Siegfried shrugs himself into it and takes another.
‘Come, Aderyn.’ I glide towards him. The leather pouch with the antidote is still hanging from his neck. He tips cold liquid down my throat, and as its chill spreads through me, my body shudders painfully back into human form and I’m on my hands and knees, gasping, in the shallow water.
Siegfried grasps my upper arm, helps me stand, places the robe around my shoulders.
‘I flew!’
‘You did, Your Grace. Are you happy?’
He’s watching me, waiting for an answer. And I am happy – if happiness can be found in relief. I’m relieved the potion worked, that there is a way for me to evade the sentence that will be passed upon me if my inability to transform becomes public knowledge. I’m relieved, too, that the flight is over. The experience was nothing like I remember it.
But that’s hardly Siegfried’s fault.
‘Yes, I’m happy. Thank you, my friend. You’ve saved me.’
He breaks into a grin. ‘You’re welcome, Aderyn.’ We start walking back into the Citadel. ‘And thank you for trusting me. You really have no idea what it means to me.’
‘I’m glad I did.’ My muscles are tingling, twitching, as if part of my brain still thinks I should be able to leap into the air and soar away.
Siegfried puts an arm around my shoulders. ‘Careful now – I don’t want you taking a tumble into the fjord.’ The warmth of his body next to mine is pleasant; the chill of the antidote seems to be gradually deepening, seeping from my skin into my joints and muscles.
‘How long will I feel like this?’
‘For a couple of hours, probably. The cold may get worse before it gets better. Shall we try again tomorrow night? The sacred lake is far up in the mountains. Flying at such a height will be a challenge.’
So I’d better keep practising. ‘Yes, please.’
‘After dinner then. We can stay at the lake in the gardens for a while. When you’re feeling confident we can come back here, in the daylight.’
‘Must we?’
‘Of course. You should show people that the rumours about your inability to transform, to fly, are false. Or at least –’ he quirks an eyebrow – ‘you must make them think they are false.’
Because the potion is a deceit, of course. I’ve already lied – to the king, to Aron and Odette – so I don’t really understand why this feels different. Worse.
‘Don’t worry, Aderyn.’ Siegfried leans closer until he’s whispering in my ear. ‘I will never betray you to the king. You just need to trust me.’
I nod. ‘I know. And I do.’ I look around, taking in our surroundings. ‘I can find my way from here.’
‘Until tomorrow then. If you don’t mind my advising you –’ he smiles at me warmly – ‘try to get some rest. Goodnight, Your Grace.’
As Siegfried turns up a nearby set of stairs, I walk back through the corridors to my own rooms. It’s late, and I know I should sleep. I get as far as changing into my nightgown. But I find it impossible to settle. Whether it’s because I’m cold, and therefore uncomfortable, or because of some other side effect of the antidote, I can barely keep still. After nearly an hour of prowling about my room, I can’t stand it any longer. I put on my cloak and head back down to the gardens.
There’s no one around. I ramble among the pathways, enjoying the solitude and the space and the way every flower is silvered by the moon.
Until I hear voices coming from behind a nearby hedge. Puzzled, I slow down and edge closer, treading carefully on the grass verges.
Lucien. And the second person, I think, is Turik, his manservant. It sounds as if Lucien is dictating a letter.
‘… much worse than we expected. Convocation continues to increase taxes on the flightless, despite the fact that many have virtually nothing to live on. Any suggestion of reform is now rejected out of hand. I believe, if there is to be a chance … no, if we are to succeed –’ He sighs. ‘I don’t know. I’m too tired to think. We’ll stop there for now, Turik; I’m sorry we didn’t start earlier.’
‘I don’t mind, my lord. I hope you had a good evening? Did you enjoy your talk with Lady Thressa? I dare say your father would be pleased if you brought her home to Hatchlands.’
‘I dare say. But I don’t think we would suit.’
‘Ah, I’m sorry to hear that, my lord. Though of course, she’s not as high-ranking as Lady Aderyn. I remember you were very much taken with Her Grace, when we first went to Merl.’
‘I think you are remembering wrongly, Turik.’ Lucien’s voice is cold. ‘And besides, Lady Aderyn …’
‘My lord?’
‘It doesn’t matter. To be honest, I pity whoever weds her. But it won’t be me.’ Silence falls – silence during which I wonder why Lucien’s words should hurt me so much, and then he adds: ‘Well? You obviously still have something to say on the matter.’
‘Forgive me, my lord. But it worries us, who Her Grace will marry. If she should contract with someone like Patrus of Brithys … I know what a Protector like that means: hunger, and fear. We barely escaped with our lives. I thought Atratys would be safe.’
‘It is safe.’
‘For now. But … You’d make a good Protector, my lord. If there was a way, maybe, that you could persuade Her Grace to step aside –’
‘That’s not how it works, Turik. And you’re worrying unnecessarily. Her Grace cares deeply for her dominion.’
‘If you say so, my lord.’ Turik sounds sullenly unconvinced.
‘I do. You’re just going to have to trust me. My first loyalty is always and only to Atratys, not to its ruler. If I’m wrong, and Lady Aderyn does anything to endanger our dominion, if it came to a choice between protecting her or protecting Atratys, then I promise you: I would sacrifice her. I’d sacrifice her without a second thought.’
Eight
He’d sacrifice me?
I strain my ears, not wanting to believe what I’ve heard.