A Captive of Wing and Feather A Retelling of Swan Lake - Melanie Cellier Page 0,94

down the benches, me sweeping anything and everything into Cora’s skirts.

When Cora took a second load to the fire, I remained behind where we had left off, taking a moment to catch my breath. She returned, and we continued. My legs shook under me, but I willed them to keep going.

We had done everything except the far wall, Cora having just deposited a load in the fire, when Juniper—forgotten for a moment in our absorption—spoke.

“What is that?”

I looked across the room, but I couldn’t see what had caught her interest. Both of us converged on her, only to stand and frown at what held her attention.

It looked like a knitting project that someone had abandoned part way, the shoulders and arms of a shirt formed but the rest still missing. Except it had been made from the strangest looking thread I had ever seen.

Cora leaned in close.

“Don’t touch it!” Juniper said, her nose wrinkled. “It looks like stinging nettles. My mama says not to touch those.”

“People don’t knit clothes out of stinging nettles,” I said but then stopped. Could I really say anything with authority about this strange room?

“Stinging nettles?” Cora turned to look at me. “I remember an old tale about stinging nettles.”

“Oh!” Juniper tugged at my hand. “I know that one, too. About the princess who had to knit shirts out of nettles to turn her brothers back from swans into people. She couldn’t talk the whole time, either.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not a very good story. I want to be a princess one day, but I don’t want to knit with stinging nettles.”

Cora and I gaped at each other. I vaguely remembered the story from my own childhood. I remembered thinking that I would have done it for Dominic if he were enchanted. Of course, I had never stopped to ask myself if he would do it for me.

“It looks like he’s unraveled it,” Cora said. “Taken some of the thread away to use for something else.”

“Like that?” Juniper asked, pointing at something slightly obscured to one side of the shirt.

Gingerly I reached forward and tugged the item into view. My mouth dropped open.

“What does it say?” Juniper asked, standing up on tiptoes to try to see better.

“Princess Adelaide,” whispered Cora, staring from the embroidered letters to me. “It says Princess Adelaide.”

The plain cotton was still stretched across a wooden embroidery hoop, and there was no question what material had been used to sew the rough letters or to secure the swan feather that had been attached below my name. I glanced back at the shirt and its missing threads.

“What are those?” Cora pointed at what looked like a neat pile of hoops behind the one I had pulled forward.

I took down the top one and stared at an unfamiliar male name and a crudely sewn image that looked a bit like a…

“Is that a bear?” Cora asked, looking over my shoulder. “And are those hairs sewn in among the nettles?”

“Fur, I think,” I said tersely. “Get them in the fire. All of them.”

Cora grimaced. “Don’t touch any of the nettle with your hands, though.”

“STOP!” A bellow from the doorway made us freeze.

But only for a second. The moment of shock passed, and we were all moving at once.

“In the fire! Quick!” Cora cried, already running across the open floor on a collision course with Leander who rushed toward us.

“Get under a bench,” I called to Juniper as I abandoned caution and picked up the strange shirt in my bare hand.

Ripping off my wrap, I bundled the shirt and all the hoops into it. My fingers and palm had already begun to sting, however, an itchy sensation crawling across my skin. It was a sensation I had felt once before, just after I met Leander at the lake for the first time. I ignored it, trying to run, but my legs no longer properly obeyed my commands. I tripped and fell, landing hard.

Leander swerved at the last moment, avoiding Cora and running toward me. I tried to push myself back up, moving agonizingly slowly. Eagle honked, announcing her presence, and grabbed at the corners of my wrap with her beak.

Juniper giggled and cheered her on—oblivious to the danger we were all in—as the swan waddled toward the fire dragging the wrapped bundle behind her. Leander gave chase, quickly closing the distance between them, and I screamed as his hands stretched out to grab her.

He fell short, however, brought crashing to the ground by Cora in