A Captive of Wing and Feather A Retelling of Swan Lake - Melanie Cellier Page 0,43

sounded rueful. “It’s such a strange place, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s living somehow. That someone is watching us.”

I shivered. “I live here, remember? Please don’t go putting that idea in my head.”

I turned toward where I remembered seeing a small pile of branches earlier and collided with a solid figure.

“Oomph,” I said, elegantly, but his hands reached out instantly to grip me, so I remained steady on my feet.

He didn’t release me immediately, speaking instead.

“You will never have to spend another night here alone, Adelaide. I swear it.”

He kept his voice low—although there was no one here but my two swans to overhear us—and the darkness loaded it with depth and meaning. I shivered slightly, and his hands tightened around my arms.

“What a foolish promise,” I said, struggling to keep my voice light. “I’m under an enchantment, remember?”

“I never make promises lightly.”

And although I wouldn’t have believed it earlier, somehow—here in the warm darkness—I didn’t doubt his words.

His strong hands still held me, and the heat from his body radiated through the layers of clothing that separated us. I felt myself flush, the intimacy of the moment causing my body and emotions to betray me—giving in to the beguiling promise of his reassurances. How much I longed to know that I would not be alone again.

But here at the lake, surrounded by my swans, was not the place where I had been most alone. And the memory of that true isolation—filled with grief and terror—made me pull away from him.

“There should be some wood over here,” I said, proud of the steadiness of my voice.

It was dark, and he said nothing, so no doubt I imagined that I could sense his disappointment at my lack of reaction. And whatever his emotions, he quickly shook himself free and came to help me, both of us fumbling in the dark as we gathered some branches.

“We should have thought of this earlier, while it was still light,” I said, struggling to keep the moment light and impersonal.

His shoulder brushed against mine, and I made my hands move faster. We needed light, and we needed it soon—before my mind lost control again and forgot it was the reckless, heedless Gabe who worked beside me.

I wouldn’t have predicted the prince would prove more dangerous without his gold-flecked eyes and charming grin—but the darkness likes to make fools of us all.

When the first flame sparked into life, I sucked in a relieved breath and stood back. Gabe worked quickly, coaxing it into full life and feeding the small blaze until we had a contained and respectable fire. He sat down in front of it, and I carefully took my place on the opposite side.

The light sent shadows dancing across his face as he gave me a rueful grin.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t keep any food suitable for cooking here,” I said quickly, to fill the gap. “I only eat cold food out here usually.”

“No matter,” he said. “I ate well at the haven. You have an excellent cook.”

I agreed, marveling even as I did so at the surreal nature of the moment. I could never have imagined that I would find myself in such a situation, having such a conversation, with Gabe of all people. But, unbidden, the memory of all the other princes and princesses of our childhood flashed through my head, and I had to admit that I couldn’t think of one who I would have wished here in his stead. If an adventure was going to be forced onto you, then Gabe was an ideal person to have along.

I didn’t usually indulge much in reminiscences, but either this idle thought, or the flames themselves, put me in a strange mood, and I found myself reminding him of one of the funnier incidents that had occurred at Princess Daisy’s christening.

She had been born not long after Gabe began his years as a ward of her parents, so he had naturally been there, and my mother had taken me to Trione for the event. My father had kept Dominic back with him, and I had missed him at the time, feeling nervous to be among the other children without my older brother to shelter behind. But I had soon relaxed—and Gabe had played a large part in that.

Back then, he was even more good-humored and full of fun than he was now, and in the absence of both my father and my brother, I had been free to run and laugh with