A Captive of Wing and Feather A Retelling of Swan Lake - Melanie Cellier Page 0,82
it was time to change. No more turning my back on the truth. I was in love with Gabe, and I wished desperately that he was here to ask me to dance.
“Will you dance, Addie?” a familiar, deep voice asked, a tall figure appearing in front of me.
My heart stopped and then took off, not stopping to ask how he could possibly be here. And for once, I let myself follow it.
“Yes.” I placed my hand into his waiting one. “I was just wishing you would ask me.”
His broad smile was reward enough as his fingers closed over mine. He pulled me in among the dancers. A moment later he had one arm firmly around my waist, grasping me close as he navigated our way across the makeshift dance floor.
“You look beautiful, my swan,” he murmured in my ear. “More beautiful than I could have imagined.”
“The costume is incredible, isn’t it?” I could feel my cheeks warming at his compliment.
“I knew it must be you as soon as I spied it,” he said. “But I wasn’t talking about the gown or the mask.”
“The wrap, then?” I asked cheekily, and he laughed, the warm sound enveloping me.
“Yes,” he said gravely. “I was most certainly talking about the wrap.” But the sparkle in his eyes told me otherwise.
“But what are you doing here?” I asked, my mind finally reasserting control. “Don’t tell me you met the guards already on their way here?”
His arm tightened slightly around me. “No, I’m afraid not. But I was chased down by a messenger who said I had to come back, that you were in danger.”
“Me?” I stumbled, missing one of the steps. “Who would send such a message? I’m not in any particular danger. You’re the one in danger! And now you’ve ridden right into the heart of it to save me—when I didn’t need saving.”
I could feel my voice rising, and I pulled away from him, moving to the edge of the dance floor to stand partially obscured behind an enormous potted tree. Gabe followed me.
“I won’t apologize for coming back,” he said. “I couldn’t ride away and leave you in danger.”
I turned to him, ready to explain that I didn’t need saving, but the words died on my lips. He had come back for me. Knowing the danger to himself, he had turned around without second thought for me.
All this time I had accused him in my mind of being daring and foolhardy, and I had closed my eyes to his bravery and selflessness. My mind whirled back over every interaction, remembering how I had spun everything in a negative light, just as Vilma had said. And even when he had not met my expectations—pausing when I had expected him to rush in—I had refused to see anything but the danger I had already decided was there.
It was true that he could be reckless. But, like all qualities, his daring nature had positive sides as well as negatives. And he had matured since we were children—calling for help or sending scouts when such things were needed. I remembered a time when he would never have thought of such a thing. And I remembered my recent revelation about myself. Did I want him to remember only that I had once been proud? Or did I want him to see me as I was now—as he already did?
“I’m sorry, Gabe,” I said. “I haven’t been fair to you.”
He frowned, taking one of my hands. “What do you mean?”
“And worst of all,” I added, “I haven’t been honest with myself. I said you could never free me from this new curse because I didn’t love you, but…”
I swallowed. The words were hard to say.
“It’s not true,” I said at last, looking up at him. “I do love you.”
And just like that, a lightness filled me. Already I couldn’t remember why the words had been so hard to say.
“I love you, Gabe. I love you.”
He laughed, picking me up and twirling me around and around.
“It seems I should ride away more often,” he said when he at last set me on my feet again. “I love you, too, Adelaide.”
And then his lips were on mine with the fire his last kiss had lacked. I threw aside all thought of propriety and twined my arms around his neck, kissing him back. My fingers caught on the soft curls of his hair as he deepened the kiss before pulling back with a sigh.