BbSis

Irina was not a princess, or even a noblewoman. Her parents were poor farmers with six children. One hungry, desperate winter, her father had trespassed on the sorcerer’s lands and killed a stag. The sorcerer had come to their cottage that very night and demanded payment, but the most valuable thing they owned was a large copper pot.

Irina had been fourteen years old then. She did not know what her age was now. It was difficult to keep track of the years when one was a swan. Maybe she was twenty, or twenty-five. In any case, the tower and the lake had been her home for what felt like most of her life, and she was not eager to leave.

But a woman could not live on pondweed and tadpoles. And besides, the tower had a new master, and everyone knew that silver-eyed Odile was not nearly as accommodating as her father.

A few hours later, twenty-four strange, feral women in tattered gowns converged on Prince Siegfried’s castle. Servants and nobles alike gasped at the sight of them, peering out from behind banisters and hedges, until the prince’s mother came out to demand an explanation.

Odette was not the only princess in the flock, but she was easily the most beautiful of them all—it was even more evident now that Irina had the chance to view her in daylight. Her hair was a river of gold and her eyes sparkled like sapphires. Her complexion was rosy, her limbs were slender, her lips were full and soft. She wore her tattered linen dress like a ballgown. Anyone could see why Siegfried had fallen in love with her so quickly, and it was at the sight of her that the queen finally stopped shouting.

The castle was already full of foreign visitors who had all come to attend the celebration of Siegfried’s birthday, among them a collection of princesses from faraway lands. Irina felt a bit sorry for them—even with their silk dresses and jeweled tiaras, they’d been no match for Odette, or at least Odile wearing Odette’s face.

Irina supposed Odette and Siegfried were a good match, despite the nearly disastrous events of the previous night. What they lacked in intelligence, they made up for in beauty and kindness and intense loyalty. For months, she had watched them dance by the lake, utterly oblivious to the danger that surrounded them, buffered by the cold and the wind by the warmth of their love. And when the flock had asked if Odette was certain he would make the promise to break her curse, she’d nodded fervently and said, “He will, he will, he will.”

But it was not Siegfried’s loyalty that had broken the curse in the end, it was merely the iron point of a sword. In an odd way, Irina was ashamed that none of the flock had thought of that years ago. They outnumbered the sorcerers twelve to one, they might have been successful with patience and guile and careful planning—

But then what?

The flock was quickly ushered into an elegant parlor, safe from prying eyes and gossiping tongues. Footmen came and brought them hot tea and warm sugared buns, so rich and sweet that Irina nearly spat out the first bite, and some of the older girls actually did.

Next came the maids, with combs and cloths and perfumes. The flock was escorted out of the parlor and into the baths, where the grime of the lake was soaked away and their tattered dresses replaced with soft white gowns, worn over terrible constricting undergarments and sharp, tight shoes.

Once everyone was warm and dry and settled, they were returned to the parlor where more tea and unbearably rich food waited. And then the men came, two of them, one bearing a roll of parchment and a pen, and the other with a stoic, unreadable face. They went to Celia, who was seated nearest to the door, and asked her for her name.

The flock fell silent.

“Celia,” she said in a thin, timid voice. The man with the parchment wrote this down dutifully—or at least, Irina assumed he did. She had never learned to read, and her only experience with books were the ones that Odile threw when she caught the swan-maids in her room searching for tortoiseshell combs and boiled sweets.

“And where is your family from, Celia?” asked the somber man. Despite his face, there was kindness in his voice. When Celia hesitated, he added, “There’s no need to worry, dear girl. We only wish to return you to your parents.”