as well, and Trymman could only watch in horror as he also was transformed into a swan. He watched in despair as his arms grew into wings, as his stature shrank, as feathers appeared all over his body. He opened his mouth to shout in protest, but only a houp-houp call came from his beak. He soared into the sky, trumpeting in frustration, trying to catch up with his brothers.
The witch then killed the infant in her fury, shattering the child’s skull on the ground with brutal force. It was too late when the witch looked into the robe and realized she had killed her own daughter.
She guessed then what the boy might have done and ran toward her own hut, intending to kill the queen’s child, too.
But the cradle was empty and the babe had vanished. Maeve had come to collect her due of the witch. Left with nothing but the malice in her heart, the witch tried to cast a spell against Maeve. That was when she discovered that all the magick she had ever possessed was gone, as well, seized by Maeve along with her child.”
“Taken as a tithe by Maeve,” Balthasar mused. “That explains a lot.”
“It does,” Hadrian agreed. He would have said more but he felt the glow of the firestorm.
Rania was back!
Lynsay thought about her conversation with the dark stranger as she drove back to town and the pub. The hour was late and it was really dark on the lane that led to Hadrian’s studio. Maybe she was better off without seeing Hadrian. She’d recognized his truck and that of his cousin at the house. He’d been gone more than a month and hadn’t even sent her a text on his return. His studio had burned down, but he hadn’t contacted her for consolation or help from her.
The break was obviously permanent to him. What if she did let it go and move on? What if there was a better relationship ahead for her, and that pining after Hadrian was an obstacle to her own happiness?
The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like the right choice.
Something white suddenly flashed ahead of the car and Lynsay swerved hard to one side. She swore as the car spun and she felt her rear tire slide into the muck at the side of the road. She knew without getting out to look that she’d be walking the rest of the way home. No one would come out to give her a tow at this hour.
The car was sideways on the lane, the headlights shining into the woods on the other side of the road. To her astonishment, there was a swan there. The bird blinked in the light but didn’t fly away. Was it dazzled by the light?
Lynsay got out of the car as slowly and as quietly as she could. The swan held its ground. It was also watching her, and if a bird could have had an expression, this one’s would have been wary.
“I won’t hurt you,” she said quietly, lifting her hands. Was it wild? It had to be, since there were no more tame ones up at the big house anymore. It hopped a little, heading toward the woods and flapped its wing. Was it hurt?
Lynsay moved closer, taking her time, and the bird just watched her. It was much bigger than she’d realized swans were, and when she crouched beside it, they were almost eye to eye. Funny how it seemed to understand her intention, like it was a person and not a wild creature. She reached out slowly and lifted the wing that had flapped. She felt the swan quiver, but it didn’t pull away.
She caught her breath when she saw the gash in its side and the red smear of blood on its white feathers.
“Who would do such a thing?” she whispered in horror. She took off her scarf and tried to staunch the bleeding, amazed that the swan let her touch it. It must be dazed from the injury. The wound seemed to be scabbing up, so it must have been hurt for a while. There was blood on the ground: she could see the dark stain of it but had no idea how to guess the quantity.
She bit her lip and looked around, well aware that she had no transportation now. How could she help?
The big house. Lynsay recalled that Abigail, the housekeeper, had tended the swans while there had been any living on